


The Theory of Connection

by AdraCat



Series: To Weather the Dark Collection [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth is a lowkey weirdo, Cultural Differences, Edeleth, Edelgard loves her anyway, Established Relationship, F/F, Fishing and opera included, Hurt/Comfort, Liberal use of headcanon, Light Angst, Petrathea, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdraCat/pseuds/AdraCat
Summary: The world is finally as it should be, and love has bloomed in full. An Emperor takes time to visit a vassal state, where clouds loom on the horizon.A tale of crisis and devotion in small parts.(A side story for To Weather the Dark.)





	1. Assumption and Expectation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Notice: This work is a light sequel for the main work, To Weather the Dark. TWtD is required reading to understand certain dialogues and events mentioned. If you have yet to read it, please consider it! (I'm told it's not too shabby.) With that in mind, please enjoy~

**Part 1 – Assumption and Expectation**

The main islands of the Brigid archipelago were rustic as they were lovely. When crossing the sea from Hresvelg, one could just make out the towering black cliffs of the first sizable landmass. The so named Sciath was a natural deterrent, when wars were still things to be waged with its neighbors, and provided a vantage point for Brigid soldiers to watch for enemy ships. A tower of stone lay at the island’s peak, as did a signal brazier bearing the arms of the Macneary royal family. The flag waved with ostentatious pride, hailing each ship that passed along the glittering black cliffs.

The other islands, by contrast, were far more hospitable. Each shore seemed to be bedecked in skirts of porcelain, white as cubes of sugar and appearing just as sweet. The ports were bustling with activity; fishermen and merchants hocking their wares along streets of cobble and sand. Their skin was dark and often weathered, but their smiles were bright; effusive. Even the sun bleached abodes which hovered nearest to the water appeared to shine with an inner light. Boats, both massive and diminutive, crossed the archipelago channels in lazy paths of foam. As it was, one could never dream of such a place besieged by internal strife or war.

Yet the history of Brigid was forged under steel and blood, even in the earliest of texts. To set foot within the main island port, meant coming to terms with that harsh truth. The Oileán Sionnach, as it was known, was scarred with proof of Imperial siege and cannon fire. Ruins dotted the eastern and northern banks, as well as the bones of collapsed long-ships and Brigid skips. It was to that end that Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg felt a tendril of anxiety when docking at the island. She leaned out over a balustrade, watching as her men threw their ropes to secure the ship. Her hands flexed upon carved wood.

“You seem nervous.”

Edelgard startled as a figure suddenly appeared by her side, but she relaxed at the familiar voice. Byleth, rumpled from sleep and travel, ran a distracted hand through her hair. The woman gazed out over the port with keen appraisal. The Emperor took solace in her presence and cleared her throat.

“Hardly. I’m just all too eager to disembark. It’s been too long since we’ve seen our friends.”

“Hmm.” Byleth’s mouth twitched, a sly movement that had become rather characteristic of late. She leaned in closer, letting their shoulders touch. The intimacy would have been greater, Edelgard knew, had they not been surrounded by sailors and other folk of questionable repute. Byleth was considerate in that way; and had been ever since declaring her affections. Their relationship was their own, for now, and would hopefully remain as such. Gossiping fishwives and the like need not know of the Emperor’s love life.

_Not that I would mind, exactly..._

Edelgard rested her head lightly upon Byleth’s shoulder.

“You’re not fooled are you?”

Byleth laughed, deeply and with all her heart. It was a thing of soft dreams and adoration unending. Edelgard’s heart leapt with joy. She would never get used to it, she decided. Never.

“No, I’m not. But that’s only because I know you.” The former professor looked down at her fondly. “You worry, even when you shouldn’t. Petra and Dorothea will be overjoyed to see you again. I highly doubt they will turn us away.”

“It isn’t_ them_ I’m concerned with.” Edelgard sighed and stole a glance over the island shoreline. “The Brigid people are fiercely independent and proud. Though their King bowed before the Empire, it was an act of coercion rather than a willing surrender. I highly doubt the people here will appreciate my presence.”

“I suppose I can see the logic,” Byleth mused. Her voice lowered with contemplation, and something far more personal. “But should anyone try something, I assure you I will cut them from neck to groin.”

Edelgard leaned away and stared at the woman for a moment.

“You’ve been talking with Hubert far too often, I think.”

“Have I?” Byleth pushed back a lock of her hair, thoroughly unconcerned. “I thought it was a romantic thought, in truth.”

“The thought of you gutting a man is romantic?”

“Ah. You disapprove. I will learn from this in the future.” The woman kept her smile, but it was edged with wry humor. Cheeky and impudent. Edelgard groaned in exasperation before tucking herself in the crook of her lover’s neck. Hidden from prying eyes, she bit the edge of the woman’s jaw.

“You are insufferable in the worst way. I blame all of our friends for being horrible influences.”

“I have always learned by example, so that might be true.” Byleth drew back and looked down. Her eyes reflected both ocean and sky, yet somehow more brilliant than both. “Are you feeling a bit better now, El?”

Edelgard softened at the name, and she placed a soothing kiss to pale skin.

“I am. Thank you.”

“Always.” Suddenly, Byleth’s expression was schooled into casual disinterest. She took a step back and offered the Emperor her hand; beckoning. “Shall we go then, Your Majesty?”

“Of course, General,” Edelgard replied, just as formally. She slid their palms together, crimson gloves meeting calloused skin. Their eyes met and held. Then they began the short journey down the gangplank and into the heart of the Brigid docks.

“Edie!”

As soon as their feet hit dry land, an enthusiastic call stole their attention. Dorothea, beaming from ear-to-ear, waved at them from a parked carriage. The woman’s hair flew in the breeze as she rushed down worn planks of cedar. Edelgard allowed herself a small smile as her friend wrapped her in a tight embrace. It had been several months since they had seen each other last, and it was heartening to see the woman again.

“Oh, it is so good to see you! Both of you!” Dorothea squeezed her once before leaning back. Her green eyes were bright with sunlight, and flicked between the two of them eagerly. Suddenly, her gaze halted on Edelgard’s clothing. “I nearly didn’t spot you! What on earth are you wearing?”

“A disguise, of course. Did you really expect me to show up in full regalia?” Edelgard attempted a scolding glance, but she knew her expression was not quite severe enough to be convincing. Her spirits were far too high for such charades. She brushed off her travel clothes with an affected sniff of arrogance. Dorothea lifted her brow, gaze turning speculative as she looked her over.

“It’s less of a disguise, and more of a trip back through time. Save for the gloves, you look nearly as you did in our academy days.”

“I think she looks lovely,” Byleth interjected at last. The former professor pressed close, hand lingering upon the mid of Edelgard’s back. The Emperor took a quick breath, only to immediately regret it as Dorothea’s smile turned mischievous.

“Well of course _you_ would think that. I imagine it stirs up some fond memories, eh Professor?”

Edelgard stiffened, outrage blooming, but Byleth’s chuckle stopped her from speaking. The woman nodded her head in an airy acknowledgment.

“A little, though not for the reasons you believe,” She replied, plainly amused. Dorothea was nonplussed by the denial and grinned with suggestive certainty.

“You don’t have to deny it, Professor. I know for a _fact_ that Edie’s thoughts were far from innocent back then. I mean, who could blame her?”

“Dorothea!” Edelgard hissed out, heat flooding her cheeks. The songstress just laughed and waved away the other woman’s embarrassment.

“Calm yourself, Edie, I merely jest! Let me have some fun. Goddess knows I could use some levity at the moment.”

“Pardon?” Edelgard’s ire waned, concern replacing her momentary anger. She stared at her friend for a prolonged period; inspecting. At first glance, Dorothea looked much the same as she always did. The only visible difference was her clothing, which seemed to be a peculiar compromise between Fόdlan and Brigid fare. Yet peering into her face, Edelgard could just make out a shadow of irritation in those expressive eyes. Dorothea, likely noticing her preoccupation, merely sighed. The other woman glanced behind her briefly.

“I’ll explain on the way. Right now, we have listening ears that I would rather we not.”

“I see.” Edelgard murmured, looking around them. She was correct in that they were far from alone. The docks were busy and bustling with frenetic energy. Porters and fishermen milled the wood planks in droves, and many eyed the three with wary observation. A few men stared at the Emperor in particular, eyes catching on the odd shade of her hair. While the people of Brigid were not often concerned with Fόdlan politics, word of the Adrestian Empire’s spread had certainly gathered attention; as did its infamous leader. Should she wish to remain inconspicuous, Edelgard would need to tread lightly.

“We can continue talking in the carriage,” Dorothea mentioned, waving them onward. “The driver is a trusted servant of the Macnearys, and loyal as could be.”

“Very well.” Edelgard tilted her head, before nodding once. With quick steps, all three women sequestered themselves within the dark carriage box. The driver, a craggy faced fellow with a woven hat, dipped his head as they entered. As they settled themselves, a cracking noise sounded from outside accompanied by the clop of hooves. With a light lurch, the carriage began to move. Dorothea visibly exhaled, shoulders dropping.

“Blessed privacy. Don’t get me wrong, Edie. I love the people here, but they can be far too nosy for their own good.”

“I know the type.” Edelgard offered the other woman a wry look. At her side, she felt Byleth huff lightly with mirth. Dorothea drew back and balked, mouth agape.

“Are you trying to imply something, fair Emperor of mine? The nerve of some people!”

“I believe it was an accurate observation.” Byleth said then, expression carefully bland. “I seem to recall you meddling quite readily when it suited you.”

“You too, Professor?” Dorothea pouted dramatically, flinging her hair back from her face. “And after I came all this way to fetch you! I’m wounded, truly.”

“All japes aside...” Edelgard crossed her legs, clearing her throat. Then she looked at her friend evenly. “Has something happened, Dorothea? When I last heard from you, it seemed that you were having the time of your life. Did something happen with Petra, or…?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Dorothea’s expression sobered. She looked out the carriage window, mouth pursed faintly. “My love is as wonderful and lovely as ever. Her grandfather on the other hand…has not exactly been welcoming, you might say.”

“King Eagan?” Edelgard narrowed her eyes. She noted Dorothea wincing at the name in a telling motion.

“Has he been hostile to you?” Byleth, ever the protective mentor, tensed. The woman’s cobalt eyes blazed with purpose, something Dorothea appeared to notice from her uneasy smile.

“Do calm yourself, Professor. You as well, Edie.” She leaned back, and worried her lip between her teeth. Her painted nails tapped nervously upon the carriage door. “He’s not hostile by any means, nor particularly rude. Honestly, I thought he was warming to me a little. But...”

Her verdant gaze shifted down to her lap.

“He’s been goading Petra to find a proper consort. In other words, a husband who can provide strong Brigid children. Of late, he’s even been so bold as to insist right in front of me. I can't understand a word of it, mind you, but it's quite obvious what he's saying. Petra has been in a foul mood for weeks because of it.”

“How callous and archaic,” Edelgard could not help hissing sharply, disgust marring her tone. She clenched her teeth in aggravation. “I wish I could say I was surprised, but King Eagan has always been a traditionalist. Should I remind him of his precarious position? Perhaps he would come to see reason when pressed by his Emperor.”

“Don’t you start throwing your weight around, Edie.” Dorothea smiled, but the gesture was thin; weary almost. “Besides, if you start a diplomatic incident and get carried off by a mob, my week will be absolutely ruined.”

“She has a point,” Byleth stated, quiet and contemplative. “We are here for Petra’s coronation. Once she becomes Queen, this matter will be moot.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Dorothea admitted with a wince. “While she will be Queen, and theoretically do as she pleases, there is cultural significance to the eldest family member’s approval. Something about the spirits blessing the union. Without that, a marriage between us would never be formally recognized and any children would be exempt from succession.”

“Oh.” Byleth raised her brows, expression dully surprised. Then she frowned deeply. “That is...strange, and very concerning. My apologies Dorothea.”

“It’s hardly your fault, Professor.” The songstress exhaled deeply, as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. Still, she mustered to keep her features pleasant, even as her smile became strained. “Alas, I will just have to work harder for him to accept me. I can't let something so simple as a stubborn old man keep me from my Petra.”

“A wise attitude,” Edelgard commented firmly, brushing back her hair. She straightened her posture. “But do keep in mind that you have friends who can correct this _misunderstanding_. I would gladly put the man in his place, should you request it.”

“I’m tempted, Edie. However, it’s primarily for Petra’s sake that I ask you not to intervene. She loves that ornery fool to pieces. I think it’s his blatant disregard of her feelings that hurts the most.” Abruptly, Dorothea’s features smoothed and her grin regained its luster.

“Now enough of this dour talk. Tell me everything that’s happened since I left. I’m absolutely dying to know!”

* * *

The castle of Oileán Sionnach was a towering and austere structure. It sat overlooking the great southern banks of the island, and arched along cliffs of dark puce. The stones that provided its foundation were covered with moss and sea mist; bleached to a pallid shade which resembled bone. The architecture was quite different to standard Fόdlan buildings, preferring rounded sweeps to edged corners. The castle was grand as it was alien, and Edelgard could not help but feel impressed despite herself.

Its interior was just as strange. Artifacts of Brigid heritage lined the walls and floors; a scattered collage of feathers, bone, and thick furs. Carved wooden structures arched above them in fantastic ostentatious glory, forming into odd swirls and cutting points. The entrance chamber was vast and bedecked with long tables, similarly carved in the same foreign style. A roaring hearth lay in the middle, as did a throne of whale bone which was gilded with shards of glittering black stone. Truly a proper seat for a King, or a prospective Queen.

Edelgard did not miss the two figures standing in front of the hearth. The first was easy to recognize from the long mane of violet hair. Petra was scowling heavily across from a much older man, her figure tense and jaw set with tension. The woman was garbed in what appeared to be furs and sealskin; proof of her people’s seafaring heritage and reliance upon the ocean fare. Her arms were crossed with clear agitation. The man she was speaking to was similarly dressed, the only difference being a glossy crown of dark metal which lingered upon his brow. King Eagan, it would seem.

“Petra!” Dorothea, either oblivious to the tension or disregarding it entirely, ran up to them. The Brigid princess raised her head, surprise appearing on her features. Then she smiled widely, all trace of vexation faded from view.

“Mo Mhuirnín!” Petra reached out and captured the songstress in her embrace. She tucked her face within Dorothea’s curls, and placed a kiss to her temple. Edelgard watched them fondly, settling her own hand along the crook of Byleth’s arm. She loved to see her friends together. It was a wonderful reminder of how far they had come since those uncertain days of warfare and strife.

King Eagan did not seem to share the sentiment. The man’s leathery features soured, and his mouth closed into a thin line. His eyes were dark like burnt timber; hard as the cliffs his castle rested upon. He said something to his granddaughter, words harsh and lilting. Petra favored him with a cutting glare. She drew her shoulders up proudly before saying something back to him. The rapid exchange only served to irritate the King further and he turned his back to them before striding away. Petra watched him leave, face uncharacteristically severe.

“Are we not welcome?” Byleth asked blithely, her expression calm as ever. The inquiry seemed to shake Petra from her train of thought. The woman turned back to them, smiling.

“You are always being welcome here.” She nodded her head jovially, but Edelgard noted the sharp edge in her brown eyes. The encounter with King Eagan had no gone without toll, it appeared. Petra offered the Emperor a deep bow. “It is good to see both of you again! With the coronation coming, I was not having much time to write letters.”

“You needn’t worry, Petra. We understand how busy you’ve been.” Edelgard inclined her head, showing her deference to the future Queen. While Brigid was still a vassal state, the monarchy remained a separate entity from Fόdlan politics. Respect was a formality, yes, but Petra was a dear friend she did not mind bowing to.

“Besides, love, I wrote plenty enough for the both of us,” Dorothea chimed in, placing a gentle kiss to Petra’s cheek. The princess colored slightly, but her grin was bursting with tangible warmth.

“And I have much gratitude for that.” Petra looked between the Emperor and Byleth for a time. “It is being nice that I can have friends attend the ceremony. In honesty, I was having worry you could not make it.”

“The Empire’s affairs are settled for the time being, courtesy of Hubert and our dear Prime Minister. I only regret that the rest of the Black Eagles couldn’t join us for the journey.” Edelgard paused, thinking of the other members of her Strike Force. Most of them were preoccupied routing rebel uprisings within Faerghus and Leicester. They mostly consisted of a token resistance for now, but the Emperor was unwilling to take any chances. She did not slay a divine monster only to lose her Empire to disgruntled former nobility.

“They do send their love, however, as well as plenty of gifts for the both of you.”

“Why, Edie, you should have mentioned that before!” Dorothea laughed, snuggling deeper into Petra’s hold. “Still on the ship, I assume?”

“I will be sending people to fetch these things.” The Brigid royal stated confidently. Her gaze was lively, and a palpable ease settled over her features. “Until then, shall I be showing your rooms?”

“That would be appreciated.” Byleth rolled her neck, rubbing it idly. “A week’s travel aboard a crowded ship has left me feeling stiff. Once we rest for a time, would you oblige me for a spar?”

“Really, Professor? You land on an island paradise and you can think of nothing but fighting?” Dorothea looked at the former teacher with undisguised exasperation. “Edie, your wife is most incorrigible.”

“We’re not married.” Edelgard rolled her eyes, but she felt her heart give a traitorous jump at the title. She rubbed the ring on her finger delicately; the culmination of her happiness and all that would come next. Byleth smiled, blue eyes sparkling with something unreadable.

“The sea made me restless, I’m afraid. I have all this energy to spare and I would love to test myself against one of my brightest pupils. I’m interested to see how far you’ve come, Petra.”

“That would be greatness, Professor!” The princess exclaimed, grin widening. “Maybe once the sun is beginning to set. The heat at midday will be taxing otherwise.”

“A fine plan.” Byleth nodded in acceptance. Dorothea merely made a disgruntled noise, pulling back from her lover to glare playfully at Edelgard.

“This is all your fault, Edie. If my Petra gets one scratch before the coronation, I will be rather cross with you.”

“And how is this on me, exactly?” The Emperor quirked her brow, unimpressed with the accusation. The songstress sighed, before darting a miffed glance in Byleth’s direction. Their former teacher was unmoved, as per her nature.

“Well _obviously_ if you had tired your lover out properly, this wouldn’t have happened. I can only blame your lack of commitment to more intimate pursuits.”

“My…?” Edelgard felt heat rise on her cheeks. _Intimate pursuits?_ Realization dawned, terrible and horrifying. Her earlier irritation reignited along with a hot flush of embarrassment. “Dorothea!”

Sudden peals of laughter filled the entrance chamber, genuine and hearty. Just like that all their concerns drifted away; lost amid the tide of friendship and love.

At least, for the time being.

* * *

“Do you think her concerns are well founded?”

Edelgard paused, hand stilling in the midst of combing her hair. She cast a glance to the woman lying in repose on the large bed. Byleth was watching her with rapt attention, something she often did in these quiet moments of privacy. The woman was never subtle in her appreciation. Yet at the moment her gaze was oddly detached, as if deep in thought. The Emperor resumed her brush strokes slowly. Dinner was fast approaching, and they needed to be ready soon. There would be time to dawdle later.

“I cannot say for certain. I’ve had very few encounters with King Eagan prior to this visit, and never at length. What beliefs and prejudices he holds are a mystery to me.”

“Hmm.” Byleth hummed, evidently distracted. Edelgard heard her shift upon the maroon sheets. “I just find it odd that Petra’s grandfather would be so different from her. He helped raise her didn’t he? You would expect their beliefs to match.”

“I’m sure in most respects they do.” Edelgard flicked back her hair, satisfied with the lack of tangles and breaks. It was pure vanity to keep it this length, she was well aware of that, but it served its uses. Namely, by stealing away a certain older woman’s attention. She watched in the mirror as Byleth’s gaze darkened, following the long spill of silver down her back. Edelgard continued on, a trifle more self-satisfied. “However, you must keep in mind that Petra’s views have changed significantly since coming to Fόdlan. She is far from the same girl who landed in Garreg Mach, foreign and alone.”

“Yes. I suppose she is.” Byleth caught her eyes in the mirror, cornflower to lavender. The woman smiled slowly, gentle and reverent. Edelgard took a quick breath, chest aching under that beautiful stare. Then, her love spoke once more, voice soft as the bedding she lay on. “Living there changed everyone, I think. Some more than others. I know I was made into a better person for it.”

“You were already a good person.” Edelgard stepped away from the vanity and headed towards the bed. She leaned down, and rested a hand along Byleth’s cheek. It was a common gesture between them, filled with meaning and significant weight. Her love’s skin was pleasantly warm, just as it always was. A denial of everything their enemies tried so desperately to accomplish.

“Was I?” Byleth’s expression slid into something distant. Her eyes darkened, a tell Edelgard had begun to notice as a sign of deep thought. It happened less often than it had during the war, but Byleth was still prone to wearing a mask of stoicism when it suited her.

“I wonder about that,” The woman said eventually.

“What do you mean?” Edelgard gazed down at her, worry burgeoning within her breast. She felt Byleth twitch under her touch, skin growing tight around the corner of her eyes. Then the other woman shook her head.

“It’s nothing. Just thoughts of little consequence.” She leaned her head into a scarred palm, lips pressed gently to the garish imperfection. Her love was odd and kind in the smallest of ways, something Edelgard did not know quite how to thank her for. She settled for stealing her lips; a fine gift as any. Byleth sighed and suddenly the world was a place of infinite warmth. Love as it was always meant to be.

Edelgard felt arms wrap around her waist, tugging her down to lie next to the woman. She rested her head in the hollow of a pale neck, and closed her eyes. A heart beat with singular purpose underneath her ear;steady and continuous. Life could be unexpectedly kind, Edelgard mused to herself. _And I will never take that for granted again._

“You know, it occurs to me that we haven’t had many moments to relax. Not for such an extended period.” She played with a stray lock of Byleth’s hair, admiring the deep oceanic hue. “We should enjoy ourselves while we can.”

“Oh?” Byleth murmured, sounding faraway. Perhaps she was drifting to sleep. Edelgard smiled into her skin.

“Yes. I imagine an island as vast as the Sionnach has plenty things of interest. Perhaps you can even go fishing while you’re here.”

“That does sound nice.”

“I’m sure Petra would enjoy sparring with you.” The Emperor offered.

“Hmm.”

Edelgard wrapped an unruly strand of teal around her finger. She gave it a quick tug, checking to see if Byleth was listening. The woman merely traced a hand along her flank in response.

“Or you could try to fight your way across the archipelago. War hungry as you are.”

“War hungry is it?” Byleth’s chest suddenly shook with a chuckle. Yet it sounded slightly off, almost somber. Edelgard leaned away and peered into her eyes.

“Is...something the matter?”

Byleth looked at her in silence. Her face was pulled into the familiar mien of detachment she so often donned. It was strange to see it in private. In their intimate moments, Byleth usually expressed herself freely and openly; without the reserve that had characterized her so fiercely before. The death of Rhea had seemed to open a sieve, and emotion became something to expect and cherish upon her lover’s beautiful features. Yet now––

Edelgard blinked in surprise as she was rolled to her back. Byleth hovered over her, face just a breath away. Her gaze was prying, searching; though what the woman was looking for in that moment, she could not say. Edelgard opened her mouth, ready to ask again, only to be cut off by an ardent embrace. Byleth pressed her into the sheets, lips locked and yearning. Her hands were warm, roving underneath silk and cloth. Edelgard felt her heart throb painfully as calloused fingers scraped across her ribs. There they lingered, as if counting each curved bone. Then, just as suddenly, Byleth pulled away.

“Are you happy, El?” She whispered, voice small. Her expression was oddly stern; uncompromising in its intensity. Edelgard stared at her. Then she leaned up and draped her arms around Byleth’s firm shoulders.

“More than I ever thought possible.” She hesitated, feeling a tinge of unease. “Byleth...are _you_ happy?”

The older woman drew back, as if caught off guard. Her eyes widened before her composure was regained. Then she smiled, all lingering trace of severity gone.

“With everything I am.” They kissed again, a light touch meant to soothe rather than incite. “For as long as you will have me.”

“Forever then.” Edelgard whispered. She brought her fingers up to tangle within locks of sea blue. Byleth made a noise deep in her throat, but she swallowed it along with any further words. There was no place for such things any more. Now there was only them, and the Emperor would not have it any other way. They would have plenty of time to be forced back into loathsome reality; to dwell on things that would steal them from each other. This moment in time was theirs.

Yet despite these soft thoughts, worry lingered and sank roots made of blackened thorns.

* * *

The dinner prepared that eve was heavy as it was grand. Various kinds of ocean life littered the table in opulent colors and varying sizes. A few of them Edelgard eyed with wary uncertainty. A particularly suspect dish was the color of fresh bile and shared a similar texture. She placed small helping on her plate at Petra’s expectant look. Apparently it was a delicacy of some kind, and reserved for dignitaries or fellow royalty. A dubious claim, but Edelgard would not sour the occasion with her picky eating.

By contrast, Byleth had a liberal palate and sampled each dish with bland interest. She hummed a few times when something in particular caught her fancy. Then she dove back in for seconds. Edelgard watched, a tad envious of her mercenary hardened gut. She turned her gaze to Dorothea, expecting an ally in her delicate sense of taste, but the songstress was chewing the odd paste with practiced ease. Petra, of course, attacked her meal with great enthusiasm. Deciding to face the sword swing as it were, Edelgard placed a small bit on her tongue. The taste was...actually somewhat pleasant. Not at all the briny, pungent tang she had expected.

“Petra, what is this dish called again?”

The Brigid royal swallowed her own helping before wiping her mouth.

“It is eggs coming from Seilide Mara. A rare bottom feeder found only in the Oileán Sionnach reefs.” She grinned, and her eyes shone with fierce satisfaction. “I have been wishing to show some of the food of my people. I enjoyed Fόdlan food greatly, but there is nothing better than food from the home.”

“I happen to agree.” Dorothea smiled at her, looking for all the world content with her lot. She shifted her gaze to Edelgard after a prolonged moment. “Brigid cuisine can be rather strange at first, but there is just so much to love. I never would have tried half of these dishes back in the Empire. It also tastes...fresher, I suppose would be the word. No offense meant, Edie.”

“I suppose I can overlook your blatant lack of loyalty for today.” Edelgard took another helping of the odd dish, and cut herself a significant portion of...she actually wasn’t sure. _C__arp? __Flounder?_ It was a pretty fillet, whatever the species. “Regardless, this spread does have merit. I admit; I am impressed.”

“What about you, Professor?” Petra, beaming from the Emperor’s approval, whipped her head to Byleth. The older woman chewed her meal with silent contemplation. Then she raised her head and blinked gamely at the others.

“It is very edible.” Byleth said finally, setting her carved utensils aside. It would appear she had finished, not a terribly great feat considering the rate at which she had shoveled it down. Had it been anyone else, Edelgard would have suspected the woman dying of starvation. Yet she knew her eating habits were an ingrained result of her former life on the road. A mercenary never knew when they would get their next meal. “I liked it, I believe.”

“A non-committal answer as always.” Dorothea exhaled, mouth tilted into a wry half-smile. “Professor, has there ever been anything you have unabashedly enjoyed?”

Byleth stilled, head cocking. Then she nodded in the affirmative.

“Fighting. Fishing. Tea.” She paused for a time, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “And being with Edelgard. But that’s as far as that goes, in all honesty. I can’t think of anything else.”

“As expected, but simplicity isn’t always a bad thing.” Dorothea hummed with bemusement. “Though now I feel bad for poor Edie. Really Professor, did you need to put her last? You could give a girl a complex.”

“Complex?”

“Ignore her, if you will.” Edelgard sent the songstress a withering glare, but from Dorothea’s puckish smirk it was evident the threat was disregarded. Such was the way when dealing with close friends; and most definitely when their name was one Dorothea Arnault.

“I’m impossible to ignore. Just ask my darling Petra.” The songstress flipped her hair coyly, flashing a stunning grin. At her side, Petra just nodded in faint agreement; too engrossed in de-boning a particularly large specimen of fish. Edelgard doubted the woman was paying too much attention to the topic at hand. The dramatic irony didn’t escape her.

Suddenly, the great doors to the dining room were thrown open. King Eagan strode towards them, his face schooled into an impassive mask. The man was hobbling slightly on a cane, a detail Edelgard had failed to note from their earlier encounter. She took in his halting gait, as well as the fierce line of his grizzled jaw. Petra stiffened as he approached. Her features took on a forbidding cast, a rapid change from her prior levity.

King Eagan finally stopped by his granddaughter’s side, and stared down at her. Even with his stooped posture, the man was a towering presence. He spoke swiftly, voice deep and rasped. Petra’s head jerked up, mouth curled into a slanted grimace. They exchanged another rapid round of the Brigid tongue, words oddly lyrical and mixed with rolling consonants. It was a fascinating verbal dispute, and Edelgard wished she had taken the time to learn the language.

Judging by the harsh furrow of the King’s brow, the conversation was going poorly. Petra just appeared both impatient and aggravated.Her hands were balled atop the table, as if poised to strike.Abruptly, King Eagan’s gaze cut to Dorothea. The songstress startled at the dark look upon his face. Then Eagan’s mouth twisted and he hissed something with clear vitriol. Petra blanched, dusky skin taking a pallid hue. Fast as a wolf and just as vicious, she climbed to her feet and sent her fist crashing down upon the wood. The dishes shook visibly with the violent act, as did the set of Petra’s shoulders. Her eyes were black with rage as she stared at her grandfather.

“Leave!” She barked, voice rough and dripping with wroth. “_Now.”_

The King stared at her evenly. His jaw worked in noticeable bursts, muscle leaping in his cheek. Then he turned his back to her and walked back out the way he came. Edelgard eyed his retreating form for a long moment. Then she turned her sights to the irate princess. Petra collapsed back into her chair, fists still shaking. Her knuckles were pale as bone, grip refusing to relax.

“Please be forgiving me, and my family.” The princess stated after a tense pause. She swallowed hard, gaze still focused intently upon the doors. “My grandfather...he is not usually being dis...discour...”

“Discourteous.” Edelgard finished the word reflexively and winced. Fortunately, Petra took the correction in stride. She bowed her head limply, dark eyes losing their venomous countenance. Soon, only somber resignation remained on her features.

“Yes. That.” A ragged sigh tore from her throat. Dorothea reached out and placed her own hand atop the other woman’s. Petra looked to her, appearing distinctly melancholic. “What he called you, Mo Ghrá, I could not bear to repeat it."

“I’m sure I’ve been called worse.” Dorothea attempted a light smile, but it was a stilted gesture. Her eyes were creased with concern, as was her brow. “It doesn’t matter now. Shall we continue with dinner? We hardly need to let the mood die because of a little spat.”

“I think I’ll take my leave to go to the facilities.” Edelgard stood up quickly, glancing to where the dining room doors were still ajar. She caught Byleth’s pointed stare and they shared a long look. Then she flicked her hair over her shoulder casually. “I’ll be back shortly. No need to wait for my return.”

“Yes...,” Petra said, clearly distracted. She stared hard at her hands; troubled. Dorothea shifted close to her side, and clasped her thigh in a reassuring touch. Byleth merely sipped on her drink, appearing almost offensively at ease.

“The water here tastes different than in the Empire. Is there some reason for that, Petra?”

“Ah.” The princess blinked rapidly. She refocused her attention to her former professor. “Um...it is being treated with shaman magics and natural filters. Since we are surrounded by salted sea...”

The conversation trailed into faint obscurity as Edelgard made her out of the room. She scanned her eyes down the long winding halls before her. Night had encased the castle in full and blanketed everything in its wake, leaving only moonlight as her guide. Most of the hall torches had already burnt into smoldering embers, smoke trailing lazily off the tips. She narrowed her eyes as she spotted movement in the distance. At the end of the long hall was a set of doors which opened to a large veranda. Edelgard walked closer, steps light and careful.

King Eagan was easily spotted. The man was striking in his own right, tall and broad with a shock of dark mauve hair. Even resting on a cane, he cut an intimidating sight as he looked out over the Brigid coast. His head tilted to the side as Edelgard opened the veranda doors. She walked up to him with caution, like one might do when confronting a wild animal. The man’s temperament was a mystery, and she would not chance a manic outburst. King Eagan snorted, not deigning to look at her. He flexed his hands atop his cane before speaking in a rapid burst. Then he waved his arm and gestured firmly for her to leave.

“King Eagan.” Edelgard greeted him, ignoring his pointed message. “I’m afraid I never took the time to learn the language of Brigid. A terrible oversight that I will correct in the future.”

The man said nothing further. His posture was rigid as he stared at the roiling water below. The Emperor continued on, leaning back on her heel.

“However, I seem to recall you communicating to my father quite effectively once upon a time. On the eve of your formal surrender to our forces, if I remember right.” She watched as he stiffened, and knew she had struck true. “So either you are being deliberately rude, or you have forgotten how to speak the Fόdlan tongue. I don’t know which is more pathetic.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He spat the words out thickly, unpracticed but fluent. His gravelly voice curled over the words with audible distaste. “Nor have I forgotten _you_, daughter of Ionius.”

“Good. Then this will go so much easier.” Edelgard stepped closer, keeping her eyes upon his tense form. The man’s neck flexed at her approach, as did the line of his jaw. She leaned against the balcony and looked out over the sea. “A beautiful place, your Brigid. I never expected the archipelago to be so inviting. I can see why Dorothea loves it here, despite certain _difficulties_ she’s had.”

King Eagan laughed unpleasantly, a rasped burst that sounded like cannon fire. He turned his head and favored her with a dark stare; eyes narrowed to slits.

“You are as arrogant as you are presumptuous. A product of how you were raised, no doubt.” The man’s braided beard shifted as he smiled thinly; humorless and tight. “I should have expected nothing less from the feared Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

“You say that as if you have no intention of bowing.” Edelgard flipped her hair, and looked at him with icy detachment. “King Eagan, let me make something abundantly clear. I may not be here in an official capacity, and for the time being I have every intention of staying a mere guest, but I will not overlook slights upon my person.”

“You threaten me? In my own home?”

“I threaten you.” She smiled, channeling every dark lesson Thales had ever taught. “The Brigid Archipelago exists as an independent nation at my behest. If you want it to remain as such, I suggest you show a little more initiative.”

“And how might I show this _initiative_.” King Eagan’s expression did not change. He looked at her levelly, bearing no hint of his thoughts. He was a proud fool, but she respected his courage.

“I’m glad you asked.” Edelgard crossed her arms and straightened. “You will go back to your granddaughter and express your deepest apologies for your behavior. Then you will prostrate yourself before Dorothea and bless their union. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Ha!” The King looked away and stared back over the ocean. His mouth tilted into an amused sneer. “I will do no such thing. You hold my country’s vassalage, Emperor, but you do not hold sway over me. I bow only to the sea, and you are not the great Mother.”

“You would risk Brigid’s independence?”

“For whatever reason, you hold my granddaughter’s respect. As she with you.” Eagan frowned, the action carving deep lines into the side of his mouth. “The days of a free Brigid are long gone. They died with my son, and I have made my peace with that. I knew it to be true the day I knelt before your father.”

He paused, and took a great shuddering breath. Then King Eagan met Edelgard’s gaze once more.

“That girl...Dorothea. I bear no ill will for her. If I had, I would not have let her stay within my home, Petra’s will or no. By what I have seen...she is as kind as she is beautiful. I could not ask for more than that.”

“I don’t understand.” Edelgard searched his eyes, confusion mounting. “If that’s true, why deny them your blessing? And what did you call her back there?”

“Bás Dleachta.” King Eagan’s eyes glazed with thought. He stared past her, unseeing. “It is a phrase that means several different things to our people. The closest translation I could think of is, ‘the death of duty’. It is usually used to express an insurmountable hurdle in a warrior’s life. The thing they are not able to overcome.”

“And how would Dorothea qualify as this ‘death of duty’? If you’re referring to her gender––”

King Eagan scoffed abruptly.

“I am not blind to the magics of your people, nor so traditional as to deny my granddaughter happiness.” He looked at her for a long moment, faintly irritated. “Had Petra expressed a wish to keep her woman as a concubine alone, I would have been pleased. But she has not and refuses to take a Brigid consort.”

“So this is a matter of nationality.” Edelgard surmised. She glowered at him, thoroughly unimpressed. “Such petty prejudice is unbecoming for a King.”

“This is no blind _bigotry_.” Eagan whirled to face her, swift despite his lamed leg. His eyes bore into her, black as coal and just as keen to ignite into flame. “I sent a girl across the sea, Brigid born and full of pride, and was returned a woman. One who speaks the Fόdlan tongue, who embraces Fόdlan culture, and who mates with Fόdlan women. I did not see my Petra standing before me. I saw _yours_; a product of the Empire and everything I feared.”

King Eagan shook his head, and a few strands of hair swept across his brow.

“I say a death of duty, but it can also mean a death of self. The death of ways I have struggled to protect from foreign invasion for all my life. Your Dorothea...she will herald the end of an era. Petra will abide her whims and soon our heritage will be lost to Adrestian influence.”

“Dorothea respects your culture, as well as Petra herself.” Edelgard insisted. “She would never ask Petra to give up the traditions of her people.”

“Is that so?” The King raised his chin, and gazed down at her with level inspection. A shadow, long and dark, crossed his weathered features. “Tell me, Emperor, do you remember the day I bowed before your father?”

“Of course. I’ve already said as much.”

“Then do you remember what my concessions were to be, should I surrender?”

Edelgard remained silent for a time, thinking. Eventually she shook her head reluctantly, unable to rightfully recall what her father had granted him. Those distant days were muddled, and she had been somewhat uninterested in the proceedings. Ionius had not thought much of Brigid, and she had shared his opinion until meeting Petra at Garreg Mach. King Eagan smiled, and it was a thing of bitter gratification.

“I had known that my son fell to your father’s general, Count Bergliez. I saw that man at the Emperor's side on that day.” Eagan revealed, gripping his cane tight. “I was in no position to ask for the man’s head, even as per _my_ culture I held every right to demand it. But I ceded to the Empire, and decided to relinquish that dark wish. Instead, I only asked for my son’s body to be brought to me.”

A weighted pause settled over them as Eagan’s features crumpled.

“That man, Bergliez, he told me my son’s body was long buried. A great respect, he said, shown to a worthy foe. Respect, I thought. What did he know?” The King spat on the ground, teeth bared. “We do not bury our dead among cold earth and stone. We burn them and send their ashes back to the Mother sea. To bury them, and everything they were, means leaving their spirit to be trapped for eternity.”

“He couldn’t have known.” Edelgard attempted to insist. She felt unease curl in her throat, anxiety building despite her composure. King Eagan exhaled sharply through his nose.

“It didn’t matter. It still does not. Even had I unearthed his body, my son would still be gone. The deed was done.” His voice faded slightly, lost to memory. “Your father was unconcerned by my plight. He dismissed my anger, as did Bergliez. Your people are content in their superiority, Emperor. They do not acknowledge our differences. How can I trust a woman who comes from such a place?”

“Dorothea grew up in the streets of Enbarr. She is nothing like the nobility.”

“So it would seem.” Eagan’s chest extended and his eyes flashed; sly and brimming with contempt. “There is a saying within the line of Macneary. A person’s worth is measured by those they follow. That girl, and even my granddaughter, followed you into the fires of war. For what reason, I cannot say; yet they chose to answer your call.”

Edelgard bristled at the implicit disrespect. She stared at him coolly, attempting to reign in her temper.

“They served because they believe in the world I will build. One of equality and peace for all of Fόdlan.” The Emperor matched his dominating posture with her own, refusing to bend before his towering frame. King Eagan raised a bushy brow.

“You build this world on the blood and sweat of thousands. Conquering any who stand in your way. Damning those who refuse your rule.” His mouth curved into a scowl. “Let me rephrase the question. How can I trust _anyone_ who serves a woman such as you?”

“You walk a fine line, King Eagan,” Edelgard replied, tone lowered in hostility. The man was unmoved. He took a step back and shifted his attention to the sky.

“We have a legend, among the Brigid people. Passed down from the generations. A tale of a silver serpent who will slowly devour the world.” His eyes flicked pointedly to her hair. She glared back him, unwilling to entertain the action’s significance. “This serpent will bring ruin and chaos in its wake, and then Brigid will sink below the sea; forgotten.”

King Eagan tapped his cane, a great sigh whispering from his lips. Then he turned away from the balcony and began hobbling to the doors. Edelgard watched him, hands clenched by her side. Suddenly, the man stilled. His head turned to the right, focused on something within the shadows.

“You may come out now. I am done talking with your Emperor.”

Edelgard blinked as Byleth stepped into view. The woman’s expression was blank, cobalt gaze directed upon the elderly man. Though her stance was lax, her fingers were carefully poised over the hilt of her sword. A warning and promise in one. King Eagan sniffed before heading into the castle, disappearing in a whirl of furs. Byleth sidled close, her face relaxing into gentle curiosity. Edelgard reached for her and leaned into her arms.

“How long have been standing there?” She murmured into the woman’s shoulder, eyes closed. Byleth’s chest moved with a light shrug.

“Not too long. Just for a bit.” Calloused hands weaved into silver locks. A light caress swept past her jaw. “Was he rude to you?”

Edelgard chuckled and leaned back to stare into her lover’s eyes.

“A little. Why, are you planning to gut him?” She asked, teasing. Byleth didn’t smile. Her expression was curiously grave, and her stare was dark with an unknown emotion. Edelgard looked at her for a prolonged moment, stomach sinking.

“Please don’t kill him. I was joking.”

Byleth blinked slowly. Then she tilted her head to the side. The woman was unnervingly catlike, appearing so much like the animal who bore her former title.

“I wasn’t planning to.” She said, after an oddly long pause. “Perhaps just a fist fight. My father always brawled with men who spoke out of turn. Especially if they tried to do so with me.”

“A mercenary’s solution.” Edelgard smiled at her fondly. She kissed the side of her cheek, grateful for the thought nonetheless. “But I’m willing to allow King Eagan this one lack of courtesy. He made some interesting points that I hadn’t considered. I don’t agree, of course, but it would seem he has his reasons.”

“I see.” Byleth smiled at last, blue eyes reflecting the warm intimacy of night. She leaned in and placed her mouth to the Emperor's brow. “I’m glad. I would have hated to ruin Petra’s coronation by knocking her grandfather into the dirt. I don’t think they'd allow us to stay for long, after that.”

“Small mercies.” Edelgard huffed playfully. “How _is_ Petra, by the way? Is she still distraught?”

“She’s feeling better, I believe. Dorothea, too.” Byleth raised her head, evidently thinking. “I bowed out as soon as they began kissing. It was strangely awkward to sit and witness that.”

“I can imagine.” Edelgard remarked dryly. Before the two of them left for Brigid, Dorothea had been quite demonstrative with her feelings. She would have felt sorry for Petra, had the princess not expressed just as much enthusiasm. They really were a perfect match. A shame not everyone could share in their happiness. She sighed at the reminder, and her mouth pursed. Byleth, seeming to sense her change in mood, kissed her temple softly.

“...King Eagan was wrong, you know.”

Edelgard raised her head, staring at the other woman in confusion.

“Which part?” She asked.

“All of it, I’m sure, but most definitely about you.” Byleth pushed back a lock of silver hair behind the Emperor’s ear. “You’re not a serpent, at all.”

“Oh?”

The older woman smiled then, lopsided and heady as summer.

“You’re an eagle. Always have been.”

Edelgard stared at her, simultaneously touched and bemused. Her odd lover was always full of strange insights. But she was usually correct, in her own way. Byleth Eisner; a professor till the end. Edelgard rewarded her with a fierce kiss, lips meeting in a languid slide.

“You really are ridiculous.”

Byleth’s eyes gleamed; shrewd and knowing.

“Perhaps I am.”

* * *

The next morning, the Emperor found herself sipping tea in the Macneary gardens. Though, in truth, the area was more of an overgrown thrush with wildflowers and a sturdy patio. It was serene and lovely nonetheless. Across from her Dorothea was paging through a book of some sort, green eyes focused intently upon fine print. The songstress had been rather subdued, but she could hardly fault her. King Eagan’s disapproval weighed heavily, upon she and Petra both. The woman had hoped, Edelgard knew, that the man would like her enough to bless their union. It was a shame the situation was far more complicated than feared.

“Do you know when they plan on returning?” Edelgard blew on her cup, before placing it to her lips. Dorothea raised her head, expression pinched.

“I believe Petra said around midday. They left quite early, supposedly before the fish could rouse themselves.”

“I never realized that fish needed sleep. A silly assumption, but one never thinks about the domestic habits of aquatic life,” Edelgard commented airily.

“Me either, but then I’m not a fisherman.” Dorothea laughed lightly. Her face brightened momentarily, losing her previous tension. “I’m glad you decided to join me out here, Edie. I love Petra with all my heart, but I find the act of waiting around for fish to nibble quite tedious.”

“I happen to agree. Byleth is obsessed with it, however. I’m contemplating installing a pond near the Imperial Palace, just to keep her from running off to the docks.” Edelgard allowed an affectionate smile to grace her lips. “It only gets worse when Alois comes to visit. On those days, I have to abide by terrible puns _and_ losing my lover to the water.”

“The Professor is certainly a character, but she suits you.” Dorothea grinned, lacing her fingers atop the table. “Happiness is a good look for you, Edie. I never thought I would see the day.”

“Neither did I, but life is very strange indeed.” Edelgard set her tea down, and ran a hand through her hair. “We got lucky. Terribly, wonderfully, lucky. I can hardly believe its real, in all honesty.”

“Well in my opinion, I believe it was very much overdue. We deserve this happiness, and I will fight and claw my way through a thousand of Petra’s relatives to keep it.” The songstress nodded her head firmly. She flipped another page, eyes falling back to the print. Edelgard cocked her head, intrigue sparking.

“By the way, what is it that you’re reading? You’ve been poring over it since we came out here.”

“It’s a script.” Dorothea stated simply. Her expression changed into something wistful, but also hesitant. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this. I was planning to surprise all of you, but I don’t see the harm in telling you now.”

“Are you writing an opera?” Edelgard asked, brow raised. The songstress fiddled with the booklet idly, turning it over in her hands.

“Oh no, I’m not nearly creative enough for that. Although, I _am_ flattered you think me capable of such a feat. Sadly, my talents stay within the lines of singing and performing.” Dorothea straightened in her chair, holding the Emperor’s curious gaze. “Which is why I’ll be starring in the lead role for a production here in Sionnach.”

“You’re playing the lead in a Brigid opera?” Edelgard blinked, taken aback by the news. “Dorothea, I say this with utmost respect, but do you really think that’s wise? You only just started learning the language.”

“That’s true.” Dorothea admitted with a wince. “It will certainly be a trying endeavor, and it may go down as the worst performance in history, but I’m determined to see it through.”

“I admire your ambition, but there’s no harm in taking smaller steps. Much smaller steps.” The Emperor paused to take a sip of her tee, considering. “When is the production? In a few months?”

“Tonight.”

Edelgard stared at her, not bothering to hide her incredulity. She took a deep breath and held it.

“That is...certainly ambitious.”

“You don’t approve.” Dorothea face fell, as did the set of her shoulders. She hunched over the table, looking for all the world like the tragic heroines she loved to portray.

“It’s more that I don’t understand where this act of lunacy came from.” Edelgard glanced at her friend, hoping the woman could see the sincerity in her eyes. She tried to offer a comforting smile. “If it’s to show King Eagan how dedicated you are to learning the culture, surely you can wait a bit.”

“That might be part of it, but that’s not the main reason.” Dorothea raised her head and swept back a strand of dark-hair. “I wanted to do this as a coronation present. I’m not skilled in anything other than the performing arts, and I wanted to surprise her by singing in her language.”

“Wouldn’t any song do then?”

“No. It has to be this one particular opera.” Verdant eyes blazed with resolve. “It’s a local production that’s been recounted by her people for centuries. Apparently, her grandmother was a lover of the theatre as well and this story was her favorite.”

“So the sentimental value would be greater than the risk involved.” Edelgard mused, thoughtful.

“Yes.” Dorothea took a steadying breath. Her lips trembled slightly as she grinned. “I won’t lie to you, Edie. I’m scared it will be an unmitigated disaster, but...I want to do this for her. It’s all I _can_ do.”

“I’m still not sure whether this is brilliant, or just plain foolish.” The Emperor grabbed her cup gently. Then she raised it towards Dorothea in a makeshift salute. “However, as a wise woman once said, love is inherently foolish. To that end, I will support you as best as I can.”

“Thank you, Edie.” Dorothea beamed, practically bouncing in her seat. “Now all we have to do is get Petra down to the theatre without incident. Preferably before she catches on to what I’m doing.”

“I could always insist we see a show, or express interest in the differences between the Mittelfrank and the local theatre.” Edelgard hummed and refilled her cup. “I should be able to convince Byleth without much fuss. She’s rather easily led, truth be told.”

“A fine quality to have when dealing with a domineering woman such as yourself.” The songstress teased.

“Don’t test me, Dorothea, or you’ll see how _domineering_ I can be.”

“Is that a promise?”

Edelgard glared at her silently. Then she scoffed and rolled her eyes in feigned exasperation.

“I didn’t miss you, I will have you know.”

“Liar. I’m your best friend!” Dorothea laughed again, but this time it was much more heartfelt. Her features radiated joy, a stark but welcome difference. “As you are mine, no matter how sad you sometimes are.”

“Quite.” Edelgard hid her smile by taking another long sip. “Now show me this script of yours. Let’s see if we can’t get in some practice before the show.”

* * *

It was an easy enough ploy to convince Petra to attend the theatre. The prospective Queen was keen to entertain her guests, and expressed boundless enthusiasm in wanting to show off her home. When Edelgard casually mentioned wanting to compare Imperial opera with the ones in Brigid, Petra leaped head-first at the opportunity. Byleth, of course, was content either way. Edelgard expected nothing less from her easy-going love. The former professor did, however, send the Emperor a measured glance. The woman was far too perceptive not to notice her odd behavior, but it hardly mattered. Byleth was soon distracted by Petra dragging her off in the direction of the theatre house.

Edelgard followed at a leisurely pace, watching with rich amusement. Dorothea had feigned a bout of heat exhaustion earlier, decrying her fair constitution as per her typical theatrics. Petra had been noticeably concerned, but the songstress had sent her off with a wave. Thus their plan was set into motion, and a certain Brigid royal was in for a pleasant surprise. Hopefully, the opera would go off without a hitch and not turn into a horror story the likes of which the Archipelago had never seen. The Emperor was willing to entertain the former, having become a bit of an optimist of late. Love, and all its wonders, would do that to a person.

The Sionnach theatre was far from the grand affair of the Mittelfrank, but it was still respectable. Well loved too, judging from the crowds of Brigid locals surrounding its stage. It was open air, and sequestered along a barren stretch of beach. The ocean roared at its back, providing an additional depth to the production that would either help or hinder it. Edelgard watched as presumed actors tidied the surrounding stone floors and ran up and down the length of a wooden edifice. She thought she could see the long tumble of Dorothea’s hair, but it was only a quick glance at best.

As royalty, Petra had been able to secure an elevated collection of seats near the side of the stage. Her smile was wide and effusive, clearly excited for the show. Byleth was relaxed into her chair, eyes roving around the theatre with sharp interest. Edelgard watched the woman’s mouth open slightly as one of the actors leaned back into a flip, likely in preparation for the performance. It seemed the opera in question would be very different indeed. It occurred to her suddenly, that this might be Byleth’s first experience with the performing arts. She doubted Jeralt would have bothered to take her, and the older woman had never mentioned wanting to attend a show in Enbarr.

“Have you ever seen an opera, Byleth?” Edelgard asked suddenly, eager to know if her suspicions were correct. The former professor turned to her, eyes wider than usual.

“Never.” She revealed, voice tinged with the barest hint of awe. “Truthfully, I always pictured it as something different. More akin to standing in place while singing.”

“There will be a bit of that, yes.” Edelgard smiled at her gently. “At least, I imagine so. Is Brigid’s version very different, Petra? Or is the experience comparable?”

“I have only been told by Dorothea how the Empire is doing these things.” Petra began, flashing an easy grin. “But when I brought her here, she was enjoying it greatly! She wanted to keep coming ever since.”

“A ringing endorsement then.”

A loud clamor suddenly came from the stage. Bells and drums sounded across the beach, and the surrounding people raised their voices in anticipation. A large tarp-like curtain was pulled away from the center, revealing a careful arrangement of props. The background was a painted tapestry, depicting a massive cliff facing towards the ocean. Upon the wooden stage, an odd looking carving sat in the middle. A hush fell over the audience as a man strode purposefully up the edifice.

“Would you mind doing the translating, Petra? I’m afraid we’ll be rather lost otherwise.” Edelgard looked to the princess, questioning. Petra only bobbed her head amiably.

“I shall be doing this.” In the dying light of day, her smile was especially bright; contrasting well with her dark skin. “This one is a favorite to me. I am knowing it by heart.”

“Is that so?” The Emperor forced her expression to remain free of mirth. She wasn’t quite successful, if Byleth’s minute chuckle was anything to go by. The woman next to her just eyed her, mouth twitching. She sent her a censoring look, not wanting their present company to catch onto the game at hand. It wouldn’t be a surprise otherwise. Luckily, Byleth left it alone and changed her attention back to the stage.

“So what exactly is the premise?” Edelgard watched intently as the man began to belt out an impressive aria, his voice deep and bellowing. He was well trained, with nary a wobble in his pitch.

“It is a love story.” Petra hesitated, thinking for a time. “Um...of a sort.”

“What do you mean?”

The princess shrugged her shoulders mightily, gaze traveling to the lone man. He was sweeping the strange carving with a chisel, miming a sculptor.

“It is about a man who carves a great work. But he is unsatisfied again and again by it.”

As if on cue, the actor tossed the carving to the ground. Then another actor shattered a piece of glass by the stage, just out of view. The man raised his voice to the sky, arms thrown above him. It was a spectacular set of dramatics, and she could easily see Dorothea becoming smitten with it.

“The man, Cillian, rages to the spirits and begs they grant him inspiorá...er...inspiration.”

Suddenly the actor collapsed to his knees, and began singing a more somber tune. Edelgard’s brows raised as he began to cradle the carving in his arms and sob. It was patently ridiculous, as these things tended to go. She stole a look at Byleth. If nothing else, her lover appeared entertained by the whole thing. Her eyes shone with rapt interest, the color deepening to sapphire. She was fiercely beautiful, and Edelgard could only watch in adoration. She reached out and intertwined their hands. Byleth blinked, casting a quick look her way. Then the woman smiled before turning back to the stage.

“Ah!”

Edelgard startled as Petra abruptly jumped in her seat.

“Here is one of the best songs!” The Brigid royal clapped her hand together firmly.

“What’s going on now?” Edelgard asked. She eyed the stage as another actor appeared. This new man was tall and broad, with a body covered completely in blue paint. Swirls of white and red decorated his chest in dizzying patterns.

“Cillian is being approached by the great spirit, Amaeton. The spirit is known for bringing life in Brigid.” Petra helpfully explained. “Amaeton will be granting Cillian’s wish, for a price.”

“Which would be?” Byleth pried her eyes away, and stared at the princess curiously.

“You will be seeing.” Petra replied, grin never fading. She really was eager for them to witness it themselves, it appeared. Edelgard focused back onto the singing actors. The man playing the spirit was just finishing up, and had placed his hand upon the ‘carver’s’ brow. A plume of smoke abruptly cut off both men from view. Then there was a swirl of fire, courtesy of a mage standing by the stage. The smoke cleared and only the first actor remained. He climbed to his knees, and held up his chisel as if it were a sword. Then he darted to a nearby lump of wood and started hacking at it. The torches on the stage were extinguished by a sudden wind, and the scene fell into darkness.

Magic use during an opera? Edelgard gave the thought some consideration. Idly, she wondered why the Mittelfrank never employed such ingenious methods. She would have to ask Dorothea at a later date. The fires were quickly re-lit by passing stage-hands, and the show continued on. The actor was now standing below a great wooden sculpture, shaped in the image of a voluptuous woman. Edelgard scoffed as he started weeping with joy.

“He is overjoyed by his creation and skill.” Petra relayed.

“Is he really so overcome by something so simple?”

“I recall you being rather sentimental over a certain painting you gave me.” Byleth smiled pleasantly, not deigning to glance in her direction this time. Edelgard sent her a pointed stare. She would pay for that later. In private.

“I meant no offense to his ‘skill’. I only remark on the concept of being so enraptured with one’s own creativity. No matter the fact its only because of an outside source. If anything, he should be praising that spirit of his.”

Petra suddenly made a hissing noise, urging them to pay attention. Edelgard did as she bid, humoring her friend. Byleth shrugged lightly, glib and unconcerned as ever. On the stage, the man finally composed himself. He wrapped his arms around the carving, and another plume of smoke crawled up the edifice. It encased the man and his work, accompanied by the ringing of a bell. Then the smoke vacated and in its wake, a scantily clad Dorothea appeared within the man’s arms. Edelgard watched expectantly as Petra stiffened. Her mouth dropped, eyes widening substantially. She whipped her head around to stare at the Emperor.

“Dorothea...is…?”

Edelgard nodded once, biting back an amused smirk. Petra made a keening sound deep in her throat. Then she craned her head to peer at her dark-haired lover, eyes glittering with sheer worship.

“Mo Mhuirnín...”

Edelgard heard Byleth shift in her chair. Then she felt the whispering press of a hand on her knee.

“I assume you knew about this.” The older woman muttered, voice appearing by her ear. Her breath was warm as it fanned across her cheek. Edelgard turned her head, nose skimming along soft skin.

“A little. Dorothea needed a willing accomplice to pull this off, and I do enjoy a good scheme.”

“Hmm.” Byleth nudged her head with her own before leaning back. Her gaze settled over the songstress with light intrigue. “She does look like she belongs there. It’s a shame I’ve never expressed interest in this before.”

“I’ll take you to the opera house in Enbarr. It’s not quite so lively, but it has its merits.” Edelgard blinked as a nearby audience member cleared their throat. She craned her head and met the eyes of a scowling young boy. He couldn’t have been older than ten, but he stared heatedly at her with blatant disapproval. She smiled at him apologetically before looking to the stage.

Curiously, Dorothea had yet to say a word in the production. At least, as of yet. She was moving her mouth oddly, but no words loosed from her lips. ‘Cillian’ seemed to be in the midst of serenading her down on one knee. Seeing the Emperor’s confusion, Petra continued to explain the story.

“Now that his work has been given life, the carver is professing eternal love.” The princess stared, rapt, as Dorothea shook her head and rubbed her throat. Petra’s eyes were filled with pride. “This art is now a woman, but she is not having the ability to talk. She has never lived before, and this frightens her.”

“That is...somewhat off-putting, in truth.” Edelgard observed with some skepticism as the man tried to wrap Dorothea is his arms. The songstress just appeared to become more distressed, before eventually fainting. “I don’t mean to sound ignorant, but is this really celebrated as a grand romance?”

“No. It is a lesson.” Petra glanced away momentarily to meet the Emperor’s gaze. “Please watch. You will see.”

“I shall trust you then.”

And so the three of them watched the story unfold. The carver, Cillian, had fallen in love with his creation at first sight. Now he spent his days attempting to teach the woman how to live a normal life. This ‘woman’ was given the name of Adara, and there they lived in the carver’s modest home. Dorothea played her part admirably, communicating the woman’s roiling emotions through body language and dramatic expressions.

She was magnetic to watch, and clearly a master of her craft. Suddenly, it made complete sense why this opera was perfect for her to perform; other than for sentimental reasons. The role of Adara was a mostly silent one, and the actor playing Cillian typically enunciated his lines clearly as he ‘taught’ her to speak. It was brilliant, and a great method of obscuring her genuine incomprehension. The story began to hit its stride in the second act as Adara slowly came to reciprocate Cillian’s affections. She waited on him, hand and foot, and attended to his every whim. One particular scene had Dorothea wrap the man in a fierce embrace.

Edelgard eyed Petra for a long moment, expecting to see envy. However, she was pleasantly surprised to find only joy. They were long past petty insecurity, it would appear. A better suited match there never was, Edelgard thought with some satisfaction. She glanced back and the opera continued. Unexpectedly, the tone began to shift towards the end. While ‘Adara’ was affectionate and loving, she ended up making mistakes which earned her ‘Cillian’s’ irritation. The carver grew only more incensed as the story unfolded. Suddenly, he was not declaring his love but avoiding her entirely. Distraught, ‘Adara’ attempted to give him a carving she made herself. The man threw it out to sea, declaring it riddled with imperfections.

“He cannot abide his creation being anything other than perfect.” Edelgard declared softly after Petra interpreted for them. The princess nodded her head in acknowledgment.

“Cillian is selfishly expectant, and selfishly disappointed.” Petra agreed firmly. “To him, she is not a real person. Just a thing pretending to be.”

“Her burgeoning humanity disgusts him.” Byleth spoke, breaking the silence she had settled into for most of the opera. Her gaze was detached; flat as stolid water. “But only because she was never meant to be alive in the first place. Had she been a living thing all along...” She trailed off quietly.

They watched as the actor playing Cillian took another into his arms, a woman who was nothing like the strange Adara. Dorothea’s face crumpled with grief as she watched from afar. Then she opened her mouth, and for the first time in the show, started to sing. It was a haunting melody, filled with aching loneliness. The words tore from Dorothea’s throat, halting only in their great passion but not in cadence. The songstress was confident and her voice rose like a tide over the awed spectators. Petra gazed at her, smile wide and bright like an ocean horizon.

“She is expressing loss.” The princess went on to say, never daring to look away from her love. Her eyes were wet with emotion. “Adara did love Cillian, but could not say it. Now she is able, and he is lost to her.”

A great cacophony of drums erupted around the stage. ‘Cillian’ and his new wife jumped at the noise, before the tall form of ‘Amaeton’ reappeared. The man bore down on the smaller gentleman, expression black with hatred. They exchanged a rapid burst of words, and 'Cillian' fell to his knees.

“The spirits are displeased with Cillian’s disregard for the gift of life. Amaeton wants vengeance, and is trying to take his as payment.”

Dorothea leaped to the felled actor’s side, and placed her hands on top of his chest. She stared pleadingly up at the taller man, speaking the same phrase over and over.

“Adara begs the spirit not to be killing her love. She is offering herself in his place, as she was never meant to be living as a human.”

Dorothea collapsed in a convincing heap, her limbs splayed like a doll. The painted man exited the stage, carrying her body with him. ‘Cillian’ rose from the ground slowly, hands trembling. Then the actor rushed to the other woman and embraced her. Edelgard rolled her eyes.

“And so the tragedy is complete. What was learned exactly? Not to make a bargain with spirits?”

“That pursuit of perfection is leading to disaster.” Petra wiped her eyes and grinned; nonplussed by the harsh criticism. “And an unequal love is not one at all.”

“So he finds love, in the classical sense, with a woman he’s only known for an hour at best. Meanwhile, the 'heroine' is cast out and dies in obscurity.” Edelgard sighed and rubbed her temple. “Well the narrative could use some work, but I did enjoy it. The highlight being our dear Dorothea. She performed splendidly.”

“I am in agreement!” Petra beamed, color rising on her cheeks with flushed excitement. “She sounded so beautiful. If I did not know better, I would have thought she could speak my language perfectly!”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy you enjoyed it.” Edelgard smiled at her in return. The Emperor turned to face Byleth, but the woman appeared lost in thought. Her expression was pensive, brows furrowed deeply. The line of her jaw was hard; muscle tensed. Worry collected in Edelgard’s chest at the sight. She touched her lover’s hand, concerned.

“Byleth?”

The older woman blinked slowly, as if coming out from a daze. She inhaled sharply and met the Emperor's prying stare. There was a dark cast to her eyes; no longer a shimmering cornflower hue. Instead, they appeared oddly dull; like the ocean during a storm.

“Forgive me. Did you need something?” Her voice was low, far from the soft intonation she usually took with her. It sounded like it once did; bland and colorless, without any affect to speak of. Growing more alarmed, Edelgard bit her lip.

“No. I just thought you were being rather quiet.” She attempted to smile, but it was strained. “Did you like it?”

Byleth stared at her in silence. Then she looked back to the stage; a few locks of hair fell over her sharp features.

“I don’t know.” Her jaw visibly worked. “I’ll need to think on it.”

“Okay.” Edelgard leaned back, trying desperately not to reveal her mounting anxiety. This sudden change made her nervous, especially when Byleth had been in such high spirits. She had been enjoying it before, hadn't she? So why the rapid shift in mood? Edelgard watched her from her periphery, paying no heed to the exuberant Petra rattling on beside her. The woman was unnervingly still, eyes pinned to the now vacant stage. Yet it did not appear she was truly seeing it. Her expression remained a cool facade of nonchalance.

For some reason, even pressed as close as they were, Edelgard could not help but feel Byleth was out of her reach.

**Next: Part 2 - Identity and Secrets**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ...er...Hi! Now I know some of you may be surprised by this (me too, believe me) since I said I was taking a break. And I was! But I was watching My Fair Lady, and then I started thinking about Pygmalion, which led to me thinking about 3Houses (because apparently I have no chill). Plot bunnies are vicious things, let me tell you. Anyway, my brain decided to concoct this 'light sequel' and I hope you guys enjoy it! I thought it would be nice to go more in depth with both pairings without any extra stuff getting in the way. Plus an excuse to flesh out Brigid in my headcanon. The culture and names are inspired by a mix of irish/icelandic/pacific island influences. The 'language' is mostly Irish with a hodgepodge of other things. If anything is offensive or too strange, please tell me so I can fix it! I just thought I'd give Brigid a bit more flavor in the world. It might be obvious, but the 'opera' in question is a heavily edited version of Pygmalion and Galatea with a tragic flair. Okay! Now that everything has been explained, how did you guys like it so far? Any pressing questions on your mind? And what's Byleth's deal exactly? Who knows!  
We'll find out next time, so stay tuned! As always, thank you for reading! - AdraCat


	2. Identity and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The struggle to define one's self. Both within and without. The secrets that tie and weave.  
A General bows under the weight of uncertainty.
> 
> Also Known as: Edelgard learns love comes with user error.  
Much respect is paid to Culture (because of course).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Notice: If it has been some time since you've read the chapter 'Causality and Ashes' of TWtD, you may want to re-read the first segment only. Just as a quick refresher~  
As always, please enjoy!
> 
> (Now rated M for safety. It's a soft M at best so no worries)

**Part 2 – Identity and Secrets**

The sun had long disappeared over the Brigid horizon once the actors took their final bow. They were smiling brightly at the enthusiastic crowd, and waved their arms as if to collect their admiration. The applause was a chaotic affair of shouts and pounding limbs, many stomping in time with their hands. ‘Cillian’ and ‘Amaeton’ received some of the most adulation, but they could not compete with the raucous clamor that elicited once Dorothea took the stage. She was a vision in white, clad in the flowing dress ‘Adara’ had worn for most of the show. Her expression was bright; awed, as if she could not quite believe the response either. Then her eyes met the loving gaze of a certain Queen-to-be, and the world visibly constrained to just the two of them.

Edelgard observed as Petra placed two fingers over her lips. Then she kissed them and sent her hand in Dorothea’s direction. The songstress beamed, hands folded over her heart. Some dreams were quite easy to fulfill. The Emperor knew that all too well. Edelgard eyed her own love quietly. Byleth was smiling at present, but it was an oddly sedate expression. A gentle upturn of lips, rather than anything else. Her eyes remained unreadable. In the dim light, they looked dark as the sky above them; moonless and blanketed with clouds.

Edelgard was tempted to call out to her; to ask about what might be troubling her. Yet she could not bring herself to. Byleth was a solitary person by nature, and she wished to respect that. The woman hardly needed to betray every thought that passed through her head.

“Come, let’s go meet Dorothea!” Petra darted up from her seat. Her wide grin was infectious, as was the joy radiating off her in waves. Then she hopped down from the elevated platform and scurried off to the stage. Edelgard moved to follow, only to still as she noticed Byleth’s inattention.

“Byleth?” She asked her, reaching out to lightly touch her arm. “Are you coming?”

Byleth blinked rapidly. Her hair fell back as she looked up into concerned lavender.

“Yes.” She stood slowly, dark tunic fluttering in the wind. “I’m sorry for my distraction.”

“That’s alright.” Edelgard took her hand. She laced their fingers together, gently tugging her forward. “Shall we?”

It was an easy feat to spot the braided head of Petra. The princess was in the midst of wading through the crowd of admirers, swift and fluid like a panther. She called out to the songstress as soon as she neared, arms spread wide. Dorothea’s face lit up and she leaped off the edifice into the waiting arms of her love. Together they laughed, exchanging a passionate kiss amid curious onlookers and startled actors. Seeming to recognize their future Queen, many dipped into a bow before falling to their knees. Neither paid attention to them, eyes solely for each other.

“Mo Ghrá...” Petra husked after a moment; low and affectionate. Edelgard could not help but smile as she spotted Dorothea color at the endearment. “You were so wonderful. You _are_ so wonderful! I am not deserving of you...”

“Nonsense.” Dorothea drew her close, forehead resting against the other woman’s. Her free hand played with a stray braid. “I am of the opinion we are perfect for each other. And I will not be entertaining any silly notions of who deserves who.”

“As you want, Mo Mhuirnín.” Petra chuckled, dark eyes glittering.

“It was a marvelous showing, Dorothea.” Edelgard wandered up to the couple, Byleth a mere few steps behind. She offered the songstress a formal dip, mouth tilting into a faint smirk. “I offer you my deepest respects. Truthfully, I always wondered if your talents were somewhat exaggerated. It’s good to see that tale of your prowess was not oversold.”

“You’re not funny, Edie.” Dorothea sniffed in mock offense. Then she grinned widely, unable to keep up the facade. “But it’s about time you acknowledged my genius! So I’ll overlook it for today.”

“A great performance.” Byleth nodded her head, faintly smiling. “Petra was almost overcome when she saw you on stage.”

“Really?”

“My heart was being full when I saw you.” Petra kissed her lover’s cheek, not abashed in the slightest. “I could not look away. And the song you sang...álainn!”

“That means beautiful.” Dorothea perked, mouth open with recognition. “I recognize it from the script!”

“Indeed it was. The best song by far, in my opinion.” Edelgard bobbed her head, and pushed back her hair. She frowned a bit at the slight perspiration. The Brigid humidity was still something to adjust to. The Emperor was about to speak again, when a small figure suddenly broke through the crowd. Most of the audience had either politely turned away, or were still bowed in subservience. This boy was not. He skidded to a stop just few paces away, small chest heaving with exertion.

Belatedly, Edelgard recognized him as the boy who had scolded her during the show. He stared up at Petra with wide eyes; looking for all the world like a rabbit caught in a snare. Then his gaze flicked to Dorothea before coming back to his princess. Petra looked down at him for a moment. She said something in a rapid burst, the rolling language falling off her tongue smoothly. The boy squirmed on his heels for a time, before nodding. He was painfully shy, judging from his stance.

“He is wishing to meet the lovely Adara.” Petra revealed with an amused grin. Dorothea’s gaze brightened even further, green as the ides of spring.

“A fan? Oh, how adorable!” She walked up to the boy, and knelt before him. He was a scrawny thing consisting mainly of elbows and knees. The dark tangle of his hair was matted with sweat from the heat, and hung around his face in tight curls. Curiously, he was not quite as dark as many of the other locals. As the boy raised his head, Edelgard could see the light hazel of his eyes. Perhaps one of his parents was from Fόdlan? Dorothea held out her hand, and started speaking the Brigid tongue; if a tad awkwardly. Confusion filled the boy’s face, and Petra laughed.

“You asked him if he was liking your horse.” The princess chuckled. Dorothea flushed a bit and sighed.

“Yes, well...my comprehension is still a work in progress I’m afraid.”

“You were being close. Just change ‘capell’ to ‘coeldráma’.”

Dorothea sounded out the correction, a trifle more delicately than before. Immediately, the boy nodded his head excitedly. He opened his clasped hands, and held out a glistening seashell. Dorothea gasped in delight before gently taking the gift in her fingers. Then she granted the boy a swift kiss on the head. He flushed red, before giving her a clumsy bow. The he scurried away into the night.

Edelgard watched him leave, inordinately entertained by the whole process. She craned her head to talk to her quiet lover, but Byleth was not looking at her. The woman’s gaze was pinned to where the child had vanished, expression oddly hard. Her jaw was clenched, and her arms were crossed defensively. Disquiet slithered down her neck at the sight, and Edelgard knew something was terribly wrong. The Emperor jumped as Dorothea suddenly laughed; high and piercing.

“Oh this night was so amazing. I hardly want it to end!” Dorothea’s exclaimed. The songstress cuddled up to her lover, and placed her hands around dark shoulders. Then she smiled up at Petra, pleading. “Can we go down to the shore? I heard my fellow actors chatting about an after show celebration.”

“I’m surprised you could understand them.” Edelgard mused, deciding to leave Byleth to her thoughts, for now. The woman would talk about her troubles in her own time. At least, Edelgard dearly hoped she would. At present, she would keep her focus on their friends; it was their night after all.

“There are more than a few who speak Fόdlan, Edie. And many were ever so kind as to insist in this endeavor.” Dorothea flipped her hair with a flourish. “I really will have to thank Hagan, especially. He was all for this, and helped me on the script immensely.”

“Which one was he?” The Emperor cocked her head, trying to place the actor she was referring to.

“The tall blue fellow playing Amaeton. He really is a dear, and has a Fόdlan husband himself! A mage scholar from Enbarr, if you can believe it.”

“Wonders never cease, I suppose.” Edelgard said, eyeing her with light bemusement. The songstress appeared jittery, as if she could not contain all the excitement in her svelte frame. Petra just stared at her lover with overwhelmed awe. The Emperor sighed playfully, and crossed her arms. “Well if you insist on attending a party, I shall do my best to oblige. It’s not everyday one is invited to a gathering on the Brigid isles.”

“You’ll love it, Edie! All of the people in the production are just so wonderful.” Dorothea did a twirl, before stepping off in the direction of the beach. She raised her brows in a clear challenge. “Quick steps, everyone. One thing you will need to learn is that people of the theatre wait for no man...or woman!”

* * *

The gathering in question was more like a hectic cabal, in truth. Men and women danced, weaved, and shouted their way across the shore; voices raised to the sky in exultation. Brigid actors were excitable folk it would appear, and they held to that standard proudly. Many held drums or peculiar string instruments, while others wrestled in the water and sand. Some just sang in small groups, the numbers a mix of what was already played earlier in the night.

As the group of four approached, most of the crowd hailed them in greeting. Dorothea was especially popular, and the woman had to wave away a few prospective suitors with an airy laugh. Petra took it all in stride, only intervening when a few drew too close. To their credit, they dipped into a respectable bow as soon as they realized who held the songstress’ affections. A future Queen was not an easy rival to dismiss.

To Edelgard’s immense surprise, several of Dorothea’s spurned suitors changed their attentions to her. She did her best to head them off of course, as politely as she could manage. One of them, a man with a sharp beard and a gap-toothed grin, attempted to spin her into a dance. It was certainly harmless enough, but Byleth didn’t seem in the mood to humor him. Edelgard blinked as the woman grabbed her firmly and shoved the man away. He staggered back, dark eyes wide. Then he looked between them before shrugging and darting off.

Edelgard looked up into her lover’s face, still trapped within a fierce hold. Byleth’s expression was uncommonly severe, as was the set of her jaw. She appeared incensed, brimming with something dark just underneath the surface. Even in the blackest of days during the war, Edelgard had never seen her look so riled. She reached up to touch the woman’s cheek.

“Byleth…?”

The woman stilled at the sound of her voice. Even her breath seemed to cease. Then she inhaled sharply through her nose.

“Forgive me.” Her eyes closed, and she leaned into a gloved hand. The strained line of her mouth loosened into dim apology. “I’m a bit under the weather, I think.”

Edelgard stared at her for a long moment, trying to read her face. It was a hard won feat on a good day, but now...it seemed impossible. Biting her lip, she looked around for place of relative seclusion. Their friends would have to go about the party alone. Whatever the reason for Byleth’s abrupt change in mood, it could not wait. Suddenly, she spotted a dark stretch of land just behind a nearby shack. The building appeared to be vacant, shut tight and boarded. None of the celebrants looked interested in traveling that way, either. It would do, for the time being.

The Emperor led the other woman to the barren enclosure. Byleth followed in silence, her hand limp within Edelgard’s own. In the shadow of the shack, with the waves roaring in the distance, they turned to face each other. Byleth had regained her composure during the short walk, and was now staring with vague detachment. It was a familiar expression of avoidance; one Edelgard did not have the mind to entertain.

“What’s wrong?” She asked directly, attempting to keep her voice placid. Worry sat cold in her chest, and she struggled not to betray that fact. Her lover needed compassion, not to be forced to bear Edelgard’s frantic concern along with whatever else was troubling her. Byleth merely shook her head; slow and languid. Her eyes were heavy lidded.

“Nothing, El. I’m just tired, maybe a bit sick from the heat.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Byleth’s eyes flashed, and her posture straightened. Edelgard watched as her gaze shifted into something analytical; a familiar action from their days on the battle field. Yet the woman had never looked at her in that way. Not even in that harrowing instant when Edelgard had faced her in the holy tomb. She forced herself to stay calm as Byleth crept closer.

“Really?” Her voice was low, a throaty burr that came from deep in her chest. “And why is that?”

“Because I know you.” Edelgard took a wary step back as her lover encroached. The woman was undeterred, and pressed her against the shack wall. Her eyes were dark and indecipherable, but her touch was as gentle as ever. A dichotomy, just as the woman herself. Byleth leaned in, and pressed her lips to Edelgard’s brow.

“Do you? I doubt that.”

The Emperor opened her mouth, ready to counteract the statement, only to gasp as Byleth seized her lips. In the time they had spent together, the woman had never been forceful. Passionate at times, yes, but far from demanding. They had both been clear in their wish to go slow when they revealed their feelings. Intimacy and touch was a foreign concept to them both, and haste would only ruin what they had already earned. Now, it appeared, those lofty notions were being tossed away.

Byleth’s body was firm against her, mouth conquering and hands roving across thin cloth. She was a lean wall of muscle and easily held the younger woman to the sun-scarred wood. Fingers searched beneath fine garb, and scored a trail of fire along back and spine. Nails dipped into skin, raising pinpricks of sensation. Edelgard could not think; did not wish to in that moment. She could only feel. And so she did, heart racing in time with each frantic meeting of skin.

Her chest rose, arching, as Byleth traced a path of liquid heat down her neck; a scattered dance of lips and tongue. The woman sucked on her pulse, tasting sweat and life in one. Breath came in warm rasps, mingling with humidity and passion both. Her grip changed, becoming a sliding touch that sought beneath trouser clasps. Heat bloomed and stayed, wanton as it was inevitable. Fingers hovered, promising more than just sweet anticipation. It was too much, yet far from enough, and the uncertainty of youth had never felt so crippling.

Edelgard opened her eyes, feeling the impression of teeth along her jugular. Reflexively, she leaned back and tried to peer into her lover’s face. Byleth’s gaze was heated; yearning in a way she had never seen before. Another facet of love; another side to a woman she dearly wished to know everything about. Yet there was a distinct edge that had nothing to do with love or lust. Something feral and pained roved underneath midnight blue; a sense of wrong she could not ignore. It was a blade quenched in ice; warping what should rightly be there.

Her heart nearly stopped, unnerved by what she found lying within this woman she loved so deeply. Edelgard shivered, though from arousal or unease she could not say. She turned her head, overwhelmed, as Byleth leaned in once more. The woman froze, eyes clearing for a moment. Then she sighed and backed away.

“...I’m sorry, El.” Byleth took a shuddering breath. Her expression smoothed, and only contrition was left upon her features. Dark eyes lightened to remorseful cornflower; the wild intensity she had held gone at last. “I shouldn’t have...” Another breath was taken, long and slow. “Suffice to say my behavior was uncalled for.”

“It’s not as if I hated it,” Edelgard began, a trifle hesitant. It was true, of course. Until the last moment, she had enjoyed herself quite readily. But the look Byleth had given her had been something other than human; akin to an animal’s desperation. She eyed her love for a time, taking in the melancholy cast to her face. “I’m just a little confused. You’ve never acted like this before.”

“Do you dislike this part of me?” Byleth smiled, both sad and knowing. Such an expression did not belong on that beautiful face, and Edelgard reached out in response. She tucked herself within the cradle of Byleth’s arms.

“I love every part of you. Every strange, and incomprehensible bit.” The Emperor tilted her head up, and kissed her jaw. “Please. Tell me honestly, what has been bothering you?”

“I don’t want to say.” Byleth whispered into her hair.

“Why?” Edelgard asked, just as quiet. The woman said nothing further. Instead, Byleth held her close and kept her lips pressed to locks of silver. Her hands were shaking slightly, but the Emperor chose not to comment on it. She allowed the woman to keep her secrets, though it saddened her deeply to do so. But what else was one meant to do, when the person you loved was in pain? What help could she offer without betraying the trust between them?

So Edelgard stayed there and leaned into her love, hoping her warmth would be enough.

* * *

The Great Marketplace of Oileán Sionnach was sprawling and bustling. A veritable haven of colorful wares and fragrant products, both of the sea and not. It stretched from the very tip of the main dock, and curved deep into the island’s center. Wooden stalls were plentiful nearest to the shore, giving way to more ornate stands made of leather and stone the further one traveled. Merchants cried for attention, hands beckoning any passerby closer. They were vibrant and insistent, twirling their wares in grand supplication. Furs, fish, beads, and baubles all decorated stalls of varying size and import.

Some of these wares the Emperor had never seen before, and she eyed them all with a discerning eye. The food was one matter, but there was a dearth of foreign objects that garnered her interest readily. Dorothea was at ease by her side, explaining some of the more exotic wares with deft aplomb. One stall had a plethora of strange treats; long and corded with a color that was akin to tar. A delicacy, the songstress had said after offering it. The stall owner watched with pride as both women partook, his wizened face creased with expectation. The taste was salted with a bitter tang that clung to teeth and tongue. It was hard to say if she liked it, but Edelgard bought a small bag nonetheless. Perhaps Byleth would enjoy them more than her.

“Edie, do you think this makes me look too matronly?”

Edelgard flicked her gaze to Dorothea. The woman was standing in front of a market stall, casually plucking through a cache of jewelry. At present, she was holding up an ornate brass bangle to her wrist. The Emperor looked at it shortly in consideration.

“A bit. Perchance something a tad smaller. I think the thinner one might suit you best.”

“Yes, I fear you may be correct.” Dorothea placed the bangle back with a sigh. “I do enjoy the look, but it doesn’t fit my body type; or complexion for that matter.”

“If you insist on adhering to such strict criteria, I imagine we’ll be here all day,” Edelgard said offhandedly. She held up a pair of topaz rings to the sun. They were beautiful, but the color wasn’t quite right. She set them aside.

“Spoilsport. Let me have my fun.” Dorothea pouted and shot the Emperor a mock irritated glance. “Not everyone can roll out of bed the picture of poise and elegance. Speaking of, how do you keep your hair so well managed?”

“I brush it. Try it sometime.”

“Oh, you are prickly today, aren’t you.” Dorothea chuckled. She raised a brow, gaze dancing with speculation. “What’s wrong, dearest Emperor? Did the Professor fail to attend to her wifely duties last night?”

“I don’t think that is any of your concern.” Edelgard shot her an unimpressed glare. “And for the last time, we’re not married.”

“She gave you a ring and swore to you eternal devotion. That sounds like marriage to me.”

“We are taking our relationship slow. I told you as much in my letters.” Edelgard paused, thinking for a brief moment. “Well...in some respects.”

“Oh?” Interest blazed in verdant eyes. Dorothea smirked, sly as an Arundel fox. “Now _that_ sounds intriguing. Want to tell Auntie Dorothea all about it, Edie?”

“Never refer to yourself as that ever again. The implications are disturbing.” Edelgard looked away, focusing her line of sight to the stall beads. It had been a misstep to say anything to the other woman. While she adored her friend, the songstress was worse than Hubert at sussing out secrets. And twice as likely to spread them.

“Come now, Edie. You can’t just say something like that, and expect me to leave it alone!” Dorothea’s expression softened, losing the crafty sheen from her eyes. “I really am just concerned. You’ve been rather distracted all morning.”

“I haven’t noticed.” Edelgard flipped a nearby bracelet between her fingers. It was the color of a robin’s egg, and felt as delicate as glass. Too soft; breakable. She placed it gently back.

“As an impartial observer who has become wise to your moods over the past several years, I can confidently say you have been.” Dorothea leaned against the stall before setting her hand along the Emperor’s forearm. “Edie, look at me won’t you?”

Edelgard sighed, brow furrowing. She did as the songstress bid, though with much reluctance.

“Alright. What is it you wish to know?”

“Everything, but we can start with what happened last night.” Dorothea crossed her arms, expectant.

“Last night was...” Edelgard trailed off, uncertain of the word to use. She wanted to say a great many of things. _Troubling? A curious mix of exciting and terrifying?_ “Intense, if you will. Byleth and I were alone and––”

“And you finally understand the appeal of carnal delights?”

“Let me tell the story, or I’ll not be saying anything at all.” The Emperor gazed at the other woman with faint approach. “Anyway, we were alone and I wanted to ask her about her behavior.”

“What do you mean?” Dorothea asked, plainly confused.

“You were on stage, so I doubt you noticed; but after the opera hit the second half Byleth was uncommonly sedate. I don’t mean in her usual way, either.”

“She was bored?” Dorothea drew back, frowning in genuine offense. “Well there’s just no pleasing some people! I should go and––”

“Bored wouldn’t be the word for it, so settle down please.” Edelgard glanced at the songstress, exasperated, before turning her gaze to the sky. She bit her cheek, pondering. “More like she wasn’t truly there. Absent, in a way. Then once it was over...her mood seemed almost hostile.”

“With you?”

“Never. However, something _did_ happen when one of your fellow thespians tried to corral me for a dance. He was harmless, but Byleth shoved him off me. I had never seen her so irate.”

“Perhaps she was just jealous. I can see her getting that way, honestly. Hot-blooded mercenary types usually are.” Dorothea shrugged, attempting to make light of the incident. Edelgard wasn’t convinced.

“I would hardly call Byleth ‘hot-blooded’. Nor particularly impulsive. It was just odd.” She blinked as a passing cloud blocked out the sun. Edelgard bowed her head, recalling the events that happened next. “I dragged her away to talk, but...”

“But?”

The Emperor sent a pointed look in Dorothea’s direction.

“She wasn’t interested in..._speaking_. It didn’t go too far, of course, but I felt it could have had I not stopped her.”

“Edie, I say this with nothing but respect, but why in the Goddess’ name would you stop her?” Dorothea’s brows arched high, her incredulity blatant. She placed a hand on her hip. “The woman adores you, is quite pleasing to the eye, and would do anything to make you happy. Is there some maudlin reason for your celibacy? Because I’m beginning to wonder.”

“Had it been any other occasion, or place for that matter, I would have let her continue. But the situation was too strange. Byleth...” Edelgard touched a hand to her lips, and remembered the emotions that were felt. Not just her own, but her lover’s as well. The aching mix of pained longing and uncertainty. “...It was like she was afraid. The passion she exhibited didn’t feel natural. As if it was forced to the surface by something.”

“Ardor is ardor, isn’t it? I don’t quite see the trouble.”

“I didn’t want it to be like that.” Edelgard explained softly. “We are more than that, and so we should have more. A hurried encounter behind a seaside shack is not what I want for us.”

“I can’t say I completely understand, but if you weren’t comfortable I agree with your decision.” Dorothea touched her shoulder lightly. Her gaze was gently concerned. “You should talk with her. Maybe try to see what’s going on in that silly mop-head of hers.”

“I’ve tried, but she’s being obstinate for whatever reason.” The Emperor huffed, shifting back on her heel. “And I don’t want to keep pressing her. Wouldn’t that just push her farther away?”

“Sometimes people need a little push. I know of a certain stubborn woman who absolutely refused to see what was in front of her face.” The songstress bumped against her shoulder, grin turning cheeky. “Now look how far she’s come! All grown up, and having torrid affairs behind a shack!”

“Honestly, why do I bother to tell you these things?”

“Because I’m wise and all-knowing.” Dorothea preened theatrically, tossing her long locks. “Now shall we see what our girls are getting up to? I imagine they’re still in the water.”

“I suppose we should.” Edelgard allowed a small smile to appear on her face. She took a deep breath, willing her tension to disappear. Perhaps Dorothea had the right of it, as she so often did. Soon as she was able, Edelgard would insist on speaking with her lover. Byleth was an intensely private woman, but that did not mean she should be allowed to wallow by her lonesome. It was better to try, than to fail by lack of initiative. Yet she could not help but think of every dreaded possibility; each one more terrible than the last.

* * *

Of the three main islands within the archipelago, the Oileán Béir was the most sheer. The cliffs were high and imposing, each one craggy and forbidding. The eastern bank of the island faced the mountains of Fόdlan's Fangs, and the resulting channel between them was a trench which stretched deep to the ocean floor. The northern edge of Béir was far more hospitable, and its waters were glassy and clear. An ideal spot for a bit of spear fishing, or so Petra had claimed. Edelgard was somewhat skeptical of the idea; a bit leery of her lover being a whole island away. However, Byleth had looked so eager at the prospect and she could not refuse her. Luckily, this fishing spot was only a short sail across from Sionnach’s largest shore.

That did not make the journey easy on her, of course. The Emperor kept a watchful eye on the edge of their boat, as well as the man operating it. Hagan seemed to be a pleasant fellow, by all means, but she did not often trust the safety of her person to a stranger. Let alone an actor with dubious sailing talents. Dorothea was blissfully at ease, and chatted with the man in a bawdy manner she reserved for friends. Hagan took the teasing in good humor; a gentle giant with a belly-deep laugh. As she watched them talk, Edelgard was struck by the notion that the man reminded her of Alois.

“So I told her…,” Hagan thundered, slamming his knee with a free hand. “What a load of pollocks!”

_And there it was._ Edelgard rubbed her temple as the man laughed greatly, throwing his head back. Dorothea was smirking, though it was hard to tell whether it was from the awful pun or her amusement at the Emperor’s exasperation.

“A rousing tale, my dear Hagan.” The songstress complimented with a bob of her head. “I do appreciate you giving us a lift, by the way. You really didn’t need to make the effort on our account.”

“Nonsense!” The man waved a massive hand. “It’s all I could do in honor of our princess and her love. If I had passed up the opportunity, why my Rudeger would be very mad with me.”

“His husband,” Dorothea commented helpfully.

“Ten years!” Hagan beamed proudly, chest puffed. He swept a careless hand through the cropped dusky-shag of his hair. “Marvelous and grand they have been. I would not trade them for anything.”

“That long?” Edelgard turned to him, interest abruptly sparked. “Wait, are you saying you married him during the war with the Empire?”

“Aye.” Hagan lifted his shoulders in a great shrug. His smile lost a bit of it’s vigor. “Tough days those were. I actually met him the year before the fighting started, after a diplomatic trip to Enbarr.”

The man smiled thinly, as Edelgard granted him a confused look.

“Ha! Don’t look much like a diplomat, do I? Well I may be mostly muscle, but I got a brain for language. They used me as an interpreter. Rudeger was a scribe at the embassy, and I fell net over heels.” Hagan laughed again, jostling the small boat. Edelgard cringed and held onto the thin wooden paneling. She braced her feet against the hull. Why had she thought this was a good idea?

One overturned sailboat later and the Emperor would be lost beneath the waves; drowning in pathetic splendor. This was all Byleth’s fault for being so obsessed with fishing. She would make it a point to haunt the woman thoroughly in retribution. Edelgard cleared her throat, hoping to distract herself.

“Still, I find it impressive you were able to forge and keep a relationship at such a chaotic time. Were your people not confused by the union?”

“Oh, sure.” Hagan sobered, nodding his head. “Plenty of tough times, especially once King Eagan surrendered. We never let it affect us, or tried not to anyway.”

“Would you mind elaborating, if you don’t mind?”

“I guess I don’t see the harm.” The man cocked his head, thinking for a time. He folded his legs and the side of his foot tapped idly on the tiller. “Hmm. Well at first it was just the difference in values. The people of Brigid are set in their ways, myself not withstanding, and they found the bookish man I brought home quite strange. He was not a craftsman, nor a man of any trade save for knowledge.”

“Do the Brigid people really not value education?” Edelgard ventured inquisitively.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that! More that we tend to respect the practical sort of learning than the theoretical. I know that crest business confused the spirits out of us. The Mother never granted us anything strange like that, I’ll tell you that much!” Hagan beamed, teeth gleaming like stars.

“This Mother...she is your god?”

“The Mother is the Mother,” He uttered plainly, shrugging his big shoulders. “Before She birthed the world, there was only dark. Cold and barren. Then from Her birthing bed came the water which filled the world, and from Her blood the fire of life which would inhabit it. The sun is Her right eye. The moon is Her left. She has since been taken back into the embrace of Her own life giving water, where She hides beneath the waves. Priests keep a flame lit in Her honor, ever burning to signal their devotion to Her gifts.”

“That is...actually a fascinating creation myth. Far more colorful than some I’ve heard.” Edelgard admitted, pondering over the details he freely gave. She noticed the thoughtful quality to Dorothea’s features. The woman was likely digesting all she heard, hoping to understand her lover’s disparate beliefs. King Eagan really had nothing to fear. Hopefully, he would clue in to that as well soon.

“But back to your husband, did your people end up accepting him completely? What of your family?” The Emperor continued to question, genuinely interested.

“Eh, it was a process. It didn’t help that Rudeger talks about as quick as he thinks; blunt and without a shred of tact! My family thought of him as mad for years, and me even more so for marrying him. As for the rest of my people...well, there’s always fools who think they are entitled to hatred.” Hagan drifted slightly, his dark eyes glazed.

“Then there was his belief in a God not our own. I can admit to having been flippant whenever he brought his Goddess up. I probably offended him more times I can count just for treating it as nothing. Of course, he did the same whenever I talked about the spirits and the Mother. Some things are just deeply ingrained. You know what you’re taught and all that.”

“But you were able to work through it and prosper.” Dorothea peered up at him with palpable hope. The big man seemed to sense that as well, and grinned. It was a fatherly smile, gentle and full of knowing patience.

“We did, and now the future is brighter than ever.” He raised his arms up to adjust the boom, but his gaze remained on the two of them. “One thing to keep in mind, is that understanding is the best foundation for love. Or any relationship, really. Empathy is our touchstone. It’s how we connect to the world around us.”

“You’re quite wise for a mere actor.” Edelgard appraised him, giving him a long look. Hagan gave another chest shaking laugh, voice soaring over the water.

“This will be a day to remember! An Emperor called me wise! Wise, me!” He thumped his chest with a beefy paw. “Oh, I’m going to have fun telling Rudeger about this.”

“Edie has been known to have a glimmer of insight, every now and then.” Dorothea flashed a playful grin in the Emperor’s direction. “Just be careful, Hagan, her favor turns on a wheel.”

“The only wheel here is the one in your head.” Edelgard leaned back and sent her friend a superior stare. Her mouth twitched, amusement coloring her expression. “A shame it stopped spinning ages ago.”

Dorothea balked, mouth agape. Across from her Hagan chortled and swatted his knees.

“Good friends, the both of you! It does my heart good to see it. An Emperor of Adrestia and a possible Queen of Brigid…the future is bright for our country indeed.” Suddenly, he raised his head and looked off into the distance. “Ah, we approach! Oileán Béir ahead, cairde, as well as your loves if I’m not mistaken.”

Edelgard turned to look as well, and easily spotted the figures of two women near the shore. Byleth was holding a spear in her hand, arching it high above her head. Her stare was focused on somewhere beneath her. With the sun overhead and the moisture in her hair, she was a sight to behold. Water sparkled like shards of diamond upon her skin and brow, locks of damp teal slicked back from her face. The woman was a warrior draped in blue, and Edelgard had never yearned for her so fiercely.

She smiled, ready to call out to her lover, but the still form of Petra gave her pause. The princess had her arm wrapped around Byleth’s shoulder, head bowed and face obscured. As their boat neared, the faintest trace of red could be seen upon the water’s surface. Her stomach dropped. Beside her, she heard Dorothea let out a choked gasp.

“Petra!” The songstress lurched to the side of the boat, panic stealing across her face. She staggered to her feet, as if to jump out, only to be tugged back down by Hagan. The man cut his eyes to them, all trace of levity gone.

“Hold, Dorothea! You do not know what manner of creature may be lurking. It would be foolish to place yourself at risk too.”

“But Petra is…!”

A sudden splash caught their attention. They looked on as Byleth swam fiercely in their direction, tugging Petra after her. The woman’s face was grave, and she cut through the water with vicious purpose. Over her shoulder, a grey mass drifted to the surface; the spear lodged within scaly membranes. Soon Byleth was right beside them, attempting to heft the unconscious princess aboard. All three of them assisted quickly, careful not to hit Petra’s head along the hard panels.

Hagan hissed through his teeth as the felled woman’s leg was revealed. Edelgard stiffened at the sight of the gash, long and jagged, slicing through her left calf. Dorothea bent to her knees, face crumpled with grief. Body shaking, she lit up her fingers with the warm glow of magic. Petra stirred slightly, as if she could sense the woman by her side.

Edelgard took a steadying breath, pulse rushing in her ears. She startled a bit as Byleth climbed in beside her, dripping wet and stone-faced. The older woman spoke to them, voice sharp as glass.

“Hurry. We need to get her back to Sionnach.”

The journey back was in spent in silence, the only sound being the tears of a distraught Dorothea.

* * *

“I told you, I am being fine.”

“Fine?!” Dorothea’s eyes widened to large pools of incredulous green. She loomed over the future Queen of Brigid, an obelisk with rumpled dark curls. “Bleeding out in the middle of the sea is not _fine_. I call shenanigans, Petra! Shenanigans!”

“Shena...I am not being familiar with this word.” Petra frowned, cocking her head to the side. She blinked up at the songstress sheepishly, laying prone on a cot with her leg tightly bandaged. Dorothea’s glare darkened as her mouth twisted. Edelgard watched these proceedings from afar, torn between relief and sheer chagrin. The wound in question had been severe, initially, and was heavily mitigated by Dorothea’s quick use of magic. In her opinion, the other woman had every right to be incensed.

Had it been Byleth who had been pale and bleeding...the Emperor wasn’t sure how she would have reacted. She leaned into her lover’s arms, feeling the woman’s solid warmth and taking solace from it. Byleth tightened her grip after a time. Edelgard refocused her attention upon the other couple as Dorothea scoffed.

“I’ll not be fooled by that innocent look, Missy. If we hadn’t arrived on the scene you would be long gone, and I would be left without you!” Dorothea’s expression softened into pained melancholy. She reached down and took Petra’s face within her palms. “You have no idea how frightened I was. If you had...I can’t even think of it.”

“I am sorry, Mo Ghrá.” Petra smiled at her wearily, umber eyes bearing the depth of her regret. “It was careless of me. I should have paid attention to the signs.”

“Signs?”

“In the sea.” The princess nodded confidently. “The spirits were telling me to ignore that spot, but I was dismissing their concern. That used to be my favorite area in Béir, and I wanted to be showing the Professor.”

“I...” Dorothea’s brow furrowed deeply. She swallowed, searching Petra’s earnest gaze. “I see. How did the spirits warn you, exactly?”

“The water was murky, and the wind blew in an uncommon direction.” The dark-skinned woman smiled gently. “The Mother has her ways of warning us when trouble is nearing. It was also a warning for all fisherman. The Mother hates greed, and we have gotten our fill, so she is telling us so.”

“...Then next time, please obey the signs. Alright, love?” Dorothea kissed her lover’s forehead, hand brushing aside a stray braid. “I love you far too much to lose you to a shark.”

“Sharks are messengers. They were sent under the Mother’s burning eye,” Petra stated firmly. “I will not be angering them again. The time in Fόdlan has softened my respect. I must be hardening it once more.”

“Perhaps when you’re all healed up.” Dorothea kissed her nose, before leaning away. “Now you should get some rest. I’ll sing you to sleep, okay?”

“That would be lovely, Mo Ghrá...”

The Emperor smiled at them as a familiar song whispered from Dorothea’s lips. It was Adara’s lone aria, and it was even more beautiful hearing it within the spacious confines of the infirmary room. She stole a look up at Byleth’s face. The woman appeared pensive at present, but her eyes were not dark with anything save worry. She had been quiet since they returned, but Edelgard did not fault her. The near death of friend was a heartening reminder of life’s fragility. Edelgard leaned her head against Byleth’s shoulder, taking in the scent of saltwater and light floral tones. There would be time to talk later.

An abrupt dance of shadows in her periphery garnered her attention. The Emperor blinked as she spotted a whirl of furs between the door and its threshold. She heard the slightest tap of a cane echo in the distance. Edelgard smiled then, relaxing in full. Perhaps some problems would be solved on their own.

* * *

The hour was late when Edelgard felt the bed stir underneath her. She opened her eyes to pitch black, mind fairly addled from sleep and dreams. A light wind swept across her brow, and she sat up to assess the room. The first thing she noticed was that Byleth was no longer in bed beside her. She reached out her hand, and felt the slightest trace of heat. Not gone for long, then. Edelgard bit her lip and stole a glance around herself. Her eyes caught on the opened balcony doors. They were cracked wide, the humid Brigid air filling the room with heat. A shadow was glimpsed through frosted glass, falling over the pane in a long swathe.

Edelgard crept out of the tangled sheets and straightening her nightdress. She stepped close to the balcony, peering out into the night. Byleth, tall and dark, stood looking out over the crashing waves of the Sionnach shore. The wind was tossing her hair in its wake, tangling already mussed locks. The line of her back was oddly inflexible, and her shoulders appeared tight. She clutched the balcony rail in a hard grip, easily gleaned by the white staining her knuckles. Edelgard stepped to her side, urging her expression to remain pleasant. She did not want to spook her lover, mercurial as she had been of late.

“Byleth.” Her voice was soft as she called out to her. She tried to peer into her eyes, but the woman refused to face her. Edelgard noted the dull sheen, and her heart ached. She touched her elbow, hoping to rouse the other woman. Byleth jerked, as if she had not yet realized she was there. And perhaps she hadn’t, lost in thought as she was.

“El...” The woman bent her head and met her gaze. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I could tell.” Edelgard attempted a reassuring smile. Byleth looked at her for a prolonged moment. Then she exhaled in a slow heave.

“Did I wake you?” Her lover asked gently, tone soft and intimate. “Forgive me, if I did. I just felt a little...restless.”

“That seems to be a common theme of late.” Edelgard pressed close to her side, hand falling lightly upon clasped fingers. “You’ve been so far away from me. It almost feels like how you were doing the war.”

“I don’t mean to be.” Byleth shook her head, expression contemplative. Her tone was stilted in its cadence. “Truly, I never meant to make you feel like that.”

“I know.” Edelgard squeezed her hand. “Byleth, it occurs to me that I’ve been remiss in letting you remain this way. I wanted to respect your boundaries, but letting you linger within your head only does both us of a great disservice. I would be a poor lover and friend, to let you be trapped by whatever is troubling you.”

“Hmm. Is this the Emperor speaking?” Byleth chuckled lightly. It was a hollow noise; limp and sad.

“Only if you refuse to listen.”

“I see...” She stared off into the distance once more. “Then my hands are tied. Well done, El.”

“Don’t say that.” Edelgard huffed and pressed against her solid frame. She leaned her head upon the woman’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t be forced to do this if you stopped being so stubborn.”

“It’s not obstinacy which culls my tongue,” Byleth stated quietly. “It’s something far more basic, and also immeasurably complicated.”

“An enigma as always.”

“No. Far from it.” Her attention shifted back to the Emperor. “You know, before you came out here, I was thinking of you.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Edelgard smiled, reaching up to touch her lover’s cheek. Byleth’s expression didn’t change. Her eyes were dark with things she could not fathom; endless as the night sky above.

“I always think of you.” Byleth whispered, soft as silk. “There is never a moment when you are far from my mind. It’s been that way for a while now, and I do not think I shall ever stop.”

Conflict marred her expression; a shadow made of uneven halves.

“It’s because of that, I fear for what comes next. For you and for me.”

“What are you saying?” The Emperor leaned back to stare into her eyes. Byleth matched the action evenly.

“I spent most of my life as a sword,” She began after a pause. Her mouth was pursed into a rigid line. “Not a person; not a daughter. A sword.”

“Jeralt loved you.” Edelgard denied, searching her gaze.

“He did,” The other woman admitted. She smiled, but the act was stained with bitterness. “But I did not feel it. Couldn’t, I suspect, for the longest time. And until the academy...until _you_, I never dreamed of otherwise.”

“You woke up, you said. I remember.” Edelgard traced a path down her skin, thumb stopping by her jaw. Byleth’s mouth opened, and her lips trembled.

“Yes...but it wasn’t until recently that I gave much thought as to why I had been that way in the first place.” Byleth was silent for a moment. Then her throat worked visibly. “...I found it, El. The book in your study. Just before we set sail.”

Edelgard stilled, heart dropping. Ice stole under her skin, freezing her to the bone. Her hand fell away in reflex, and she wrapped her arms around herself. It was a defensive motion the Emperor could not stop herself from doing. A weakness she loathed herself for betraying.

“I assume you’re talking about the Immaculate One’s journal.” She took a steadying breath and held it. That damnable book. It should have been disposed of long ago, yet she could not bring herself to burn it. The secrets it contained were far too many, and curiosity was a vice she and Byleth shared. Still, it had been foolish of her to take it to Enbarr, and even more foolish to assume her lover would not stumble upon it. Tiny Professor was not the only one with idle paws, or hands as it were.

Byleth tilted her head to the side. Her gaze was not hard, nor accusing. But that did not mean much when dealing with a woman so practiced at hiding herself. Edelgard looked away from her all the same.

“Are you terribly angry with me then? Is that what this has been all about?” She exhaled shakily, throat tight. “If so, then please trust that I never meant to conceal it from you for so long. I thought it didn’t matter anymore, since whatever hold _she_ had on you seemed to disappear. Byleth––”

Edelgard startled as her lover drew her close, wrapping her in a firm embrace. She recovered quickly and leaned into her arms, heart racing. She clutched the back of Byleth’s nightshirt.

“I know. I trust you.” The woman murmured into her hair. “That was never in question. It was for the best, I believe. Had I known...perhaps I would have been tempted to seek answers. Maybe things would have changed. I loathe that possibility, and do not want to think of a world any different than this one.”

“Then what has you so upset?”

Byleth pulled away, brushing aside a locks of hair from Edelgard’s brow.

“El...I love you. And I trust you love me.” She hesitated, and her face twisted into something conflicted. “I just wonder if that’s wise.”

“How can you say that?” Edelgard demanded, fear alighting. She gripped the other woman tighter.

“I wasn’t living before I met you. In all sense of the word.” Byleth’s jaw clenched, and a muscle in her cheek moved with aggravation. “I killed without remorse or consideration. For pay and far less than that. I wasn’t like my father, who could feel such things as guilt; and I never gave any thought to being different than I was.”

“You were a mercenary.”

“I was a blade with no will or desire. But what happens when you give a blade the ability to feel? To remember each gruesome act it had ever committed?” A shadow passed in full over pale features. Cobalt flashed in the dark. “The first time...it wasn’t for coin or survival. I murdered in cold blood, and felt nothing.”

“There must have been a reason!” Edelgard attempted to insist, but Byleth merely shook her head.

“It was a boy, El. Young as the one who wished to meet Dorothea the other night.”

Despite herself, the Emperor flinched at the revelation. She let her arms fall limply to her side. A knowing look flashed across Byleth’s face, as well as a pained smile.

“I gutted him, ignorant to mercy or compassion. What sort of thing does that, but a monster?” She leaned in, fingers hovering by Edelgard’s mouth. Yet she did not complete the touch. “And you slay monsters, don’t you?”

“You're not a monster,” Edelgard whispered into the air. There was something wrong with her voice. It sounded far away, as if she were sinking beneath the sea. Her breast felt tight; a great ponderous weight leeching away her strength. Byleth stared at her evenly; and for once, the action filled her with cold dread.

“I was not meant to live, but Rhea forced life upon me. Just as a spirit does to a piece of wood.” She backed away and folded her arms. “You are more caring than the man Cillian, of course, but the message still stands. A thing like me was never meant to exist. Even as I am now, I still falter at being human.”

Byleth sighed, and her shoulders fell.

“At times, I struggle with my lack of connection. It bothers me that I still hurt people in my ignorance. Feelings I can’t quite recognize, preferences I should rightly have. What happened last night...and even today…” She quieted, voice losing its strength. “El, I worry about hurting you most of all. And I can’t help but wonder, should I even be allowed a place at your side? _Can_ there be a place, for a rusted sword in the world of peace you will build?”

Edelgard stared at her; frozen. Silence stole over them both, heavy and oppressive. Then Byleth turned on her heel, and started walking away. Edelgard watched her retreat, voice still caught in her throat. She did not know what to say. She barely knew what to think. In the end, her inaction cost her dearly. Eventually, the long shadow of her lover vanished into nothing. A painful echo that stirred old ghosts. Byleth did not return to bed that night, and was still gone by the next morning.

* * *

“Edie, you know I love you, but that was probably the daftest thing you’ve ever done.”

Dorothea stared at the Emperor with blatant disapproval, her mouth tilted into a fierce scowl. She sat across from her in the gardens, having been in the midst of mending a tear in a leather top. One of Petra’s hunting jerkins by the look of it. Edelgard didn’t meet her gaze, keeping her line of sight focused on the busy archipelago channel. The patio overlooked a small incline and dipped to a private beach which met the Sionnach bay. She sipped her tea, busying herself with idle thoughts.

“I’m quite aware that I handled that poorly,” Edelgard said at last. Her lips pursed as the tea scalded her tongue. “You need not remind me of my foolishness.”

“You could do with a bit more reminding. Maybe then you won’t make so many mistakes.” Dorothea set aside her needle and thread. She raised her brow in a direct challenge. “I know you’re new to this, but indirectly confirming your lover’s insecurities is a terrible thing to do. Bad Emperor.”

“I’m not a dog, Dorothea. There’s no need to scold me like one.” Edelgard glanced at her, irritated. “I should have spoken up. I know that.”

She paused, hands fiddling with her cup. The grounds within were dark as pitch, heavy with shadow just as her heart. Edelgard placed it back on the saucer.

“I didn’t tell you everything, in truth. There’s certain things Byleth said that I will not repeat. What she revealed...shocked me. More than I thought should be possible after everything we’ve seen and done; yet I was taken aback just the same. I’m ashamed of that the most.”

“Surely it couldn’t have been too bad? The Professor is such a sweetheart. She’s basically an overgrown puppy; just happy to be there and all.” Dorothea frowned.

“She is sweet, but there are things about her that make the situation rather _complicated_.” Edelgard leaned back and crossed her legs, expression clouding. “Byleth keeps her past close to her chest; and if it follows the same vein as what she told me, I do not blame her for keeping silent.”

“Our dear teacher is quite the mystery, it seems.” The songstress leaned against the table, folding a hand under her chin. “You know, I’m glad my little infatuation with her burned out quickly. No offense to your taste in women, Edie, but Petra is far less trouble to deal with. Only sensible problems for me and my Queen.”

“You are too kind, Dorothea.” Edelgard huffed, rolling her eyes.

“I am, aren’t I?” The other woman pushed back her hair, sobering slightly. “So what are you planning to do? You need to sort this mess out as soon as you can.”

“I want to, but Byleth disappeared last night and has not been seen since. I have a few of the guards we brought looking for her as we speak.” A sigh of exasperation tore from the Emperor. Her nails dug into her arm; a vice grip of worry and panic. “Brigid is an unknown to her, and I worry she may find herself in trouble. With her frame of mind the way it is...I can’t help but be concerned.”

“She’s a highly trained swordsman who leads the greatest army in the known world,” Dorothea remarked, smiling in reassurance. “If anything, Brigid should be scared of _her._”

“You have no idea how little that comforts me.” Edelgard glowered at her friend, far from amused by the comment. “It’s because of how formidable she is that I worry. While my pull is great, I don’t know if I can protect her from an enraged mob should the inevitable pass. Diplomacy in the archipelago is a tenuous thing to navigate, even with Petra soon to be at its head.”

“I’m sure our dear Byleth can restrain herself. She’s not a rampaging warlord. Just a bit upset, shall we say?”

“I don’t worry about her starting a fight. _Finishing_ it, however...”

“Don’t be such a worrier, Edie, it’s bad for the skin. That’s something Manuela taught me when I first joined the Mittelfrank.” Dorothea leaned over the table to pat her liege’s hand. “All we can do now is trust in the Professor to come back when she’s ready. I’m sure her head will be bit more clear after a nice refreshing jaunt along the beach.”

“I wish I had your certainty.” Edelgard allowed her posture to relax, willing herself to calm. She smiled thinly at her friend. “But I will try. Byleth may be secretive, but she always comes back to me. She did it before, and I’ve grown to have faith that she always will.”

“There you go, Edie! Save the doom and gloom for after the wedding, rather than the engagement.” Dorothea smoothed out the jerkin in her lap, before eyeing it with faint distaste. “Does this seam look lopsided to you? I swear, Bernadetta always made this look a lot easier than it is. I think my fingertips are rubbed raw from how much time I spent on one little tear.”

“Petra will be glad for the effort, no matter how terrible the work.” Edelgard looked down at the patch. It was more than a little askew, with several loose threads. But it was a decent effort from a woman unpracticed with a thimble. Dorothea pouted at the remark.

“You have an odd way of encouraging a person, Edie.”

A sudden patter of footsteps came from behind the two women. Edelgard straightened in her chair as an Imperial scout ran up to them, his face slicked with sweat. Dimly she recognized him as Den of Varley, a well-meaning lad with a nervous disposition. The man slid into a deep bow as soon as he stopped, panting heavily.

“Your Majesty!” He spat out in a rush, fist placed to his chest. “General Byleth has been found, Your Majesty, just as you r-requested.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Edelgard stood up and greeted the man with smile. She felt her spirits rise, previous tension falling away like water. “Is she back at the castle then? Where is she?”

“Um...w-well...” The man bowed his head. The Emperor’s expression fell as he clearly hesitated. Patience melting away, she addressed him again.

“Well, what? Is General Byleth here or isn’t she?”

“The High General is on Sionnach, Your Majesty, but she’s not in the castle at present.” The scout squirmed in place, his youthful face drawing up into a grimace. “S-She uh...she’s currently being held in the Lower Gaol, near the docks.”

“...You mean the prison.” Edelgard blinked at him numbly. She thought she could hear a ringing her ears, but that might have just been a premature stroke. Across from her, Dorothea blew a torrent of air between her lips. She craned her head to look at the dumbfounded Emperor, and clicked her tongue.

“Edie, I cede to your impeccable sense of worry. Clearly, I was wrong to think the Professor capable of self-control.” The songstress dropped her task and eyed the other woman with something like pity. “Let’s go see what that silly woman has gotten up to now, shall we?”

* * *

The formidable structure of the Sionnach Gaol was composed of two separate buildings. The first was the Upper Gaol, which typically housed the more dangerous criminals of the archipelago. Walls of resin-reinforced stone formed it’s sloping architecture, and wrapped around the eastern-most edge of Oileán Sionnach. It was tall as it was wide, and clung to the cliffs with austere spite. This dramatic construction allowed the guards to use the natural dangers of the Island topography to prevent any notions of escape. A perilous drop onto the rocks below was typically enough to deter any ambitious reprobates.

Below the Upper Gaol, lay an interconnected system of caves which bled into the island’s bay as well the far less grand Lower Gaol. This smaller prison was a retrofitted cavern with wooden barriers and rusted metal composing its interior. It was typically reserved for lesser criminals, such as tavern drunks or petty thieves. Petra had helpfully informed them that her own uncle used to visit the place often; apparently the man had been quite the shyster back in his day. When Edelgard asked what happened to him, the princess just shrugged at her limply.

“He tangled with the Mother, and lost,” Was all she said on the subject. A cryptic answer, but the Emperor had little designs of challenging it. Sadly, King Eagan demanded Petra’s presence at his side that day. The coronation was to take place the next evening, and the man needed her for some ritual or another. To that end, only Edelgard and Dorothea were available to go fetch their wayward former professor. An able enough party, but the Emperor was leery of what they would find. She trusted her lover, but the woman was known for trouble-making; or rather it was more like trouble ended up finding _her_.

The path to the Lower Goal was connected to the beach, and only fully accessed by water. Hagan was woefully busy that day, off assisting his husband with his research on the far side of the island. Thankfully, a dockworker was generous enough to provide them with a ride into the flooded tunnels. Edelgard took in the slick cavern walls, hands wringing on her lap. The trip was slow and agonizing, only serving to heighten her anxiety.

After what felt like hours, they finally reached the entrance to the Lower Gaol. Two guards stood at attention, clothed in the traditional armor Petra wore on occasion. They were dark-skinned and grim-faced, with matching Brigid sparth in hand. As they neared, the taller of the two stepped forward and spoke in a rush.

“Do either of you speak Fόdlan?” Edelgard addressed the two of them, flicking back her hair. The men traded a glance, incomprehension on their faces. Dorothea hummed, tapping her chin.

“I think they only speak Braeilge.” At Edelgard’s perplexed look, the songstress elaborated. “It’s the name for the language. Sadly, I think my services are needed. Our porter friend only speaks the barest of Fόdlan, and won’t be much help translating.”

“Joy.” Edelgard crossed her arms and exhaled. This was not a promising start. Dorothea’s gaff after the opera did not instill much confidence in her language comprehension. “Well have at it then. I’ll not have the love of my life rotting in a watery prison.”

“Oh, Edie! That’s so sweet!” Dorothea cooed.

“Please, just get on with it.” Edelgard glared at her, tapping her foot. Clearing her throat, the songstress opened her mouth. To the women’s mutual surprise one of the guards abruptly made a strangled noise in his throat. Then he pointed at Dorothea, face lit up with clear jubilation.

“Adara! Is tusa, Adara!”

“Ó, tá sé...” The other man bent his head and stared at Dorothea intently. He smiled after a long moment. “Bean an bhanphrionsa, eh? An-ádh!”

“I think they recognize you,” The Emperor stated wryly. The songstress was taken aback for a moment, green eyes wide. Then she fluttered her lashes and grinned with deliberate smugness.

“Why, I suppose they do! A wonderful start to the negotiations...”

They exchanged words in a flurry, Dorothea far more halting than the guards in her speech. The men didn’t appear offended, or annoyed in any way. In fact, they seemed all too pleased to talk to the woman. The shorter guard in particular gazed at her with awe, dark-eyes glittering with the depth of his admiration. After a long period, the talk ended and the taller of the two stepped aside. He fished a key out from his mail and entered through the iron gates barring off the prison. Dorothea stepped back to Edelgard, seemingly successful. Yet the woman’s expression was curiously pensive, and the Emperor eyed her warily.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked, attempting to discern her friend’s odd expression. “Are they not bringing her out? We have coin if that’s the issue.”

“Hmm?” Dorothea blinked rapidly, as if stirring from thought. A brief tinge of unease appeared on her face. “Um...no, we’re good. He’s going to fetch her as we speak. Apparently, they recognized her as a guest of the Macnearys and were just holding her until we picked her up.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Well…” The other woman visibly waffled, avoiding Edelgard’s prying gaze. “I guess I’m just a little put-off by what they referred to the Professor as.”

“They insulted her?” Edelgard stiffened, anger curling like dragon fire in her belly. She clenched her fists defensively. Dorothea waved her hand with an uncomfortable grin.

“Not exactly. Just a little artistic liberty, I’m sure. Besides you shouldn’t trust my language skills quite yet. The word might mean something else than what I think it does, after all.”

Edelgard frowned at her, unsure whether to believe the explanation. She was about to press Dorothea further when the prison gate reopened. The tall guard reappeared, a length of rope in his hands. He tugged and the bedraggled form of Byleth stepped into view. Edelgard sucked in a sharp breath, stunned at the sight before her.

Her lover was squinting currently, eyes likely adjusting to the light. The woman's nose was faintly purple with bruises, and a shallow slice ran from her temple to the edge of her cheek. Blood was crusted around her nose and mouth; the dried remnants of a brawl soaked into her tunic. Byleth stared at the both of them, only appearing blandly interested at best.

“Oh. Edelgard and Dorothea.” She paused, and looked around herself with an airy tilt of her head. “So my imprisonment ends. A shame. I was somewhat interested in learning how the cells were constructed.”

“Professor!” Dorothea shouted suddenly, voice shrill with horror. “You’re covered in blood!”

Byleth blinked. Then she looked down at her bloodied form, as if just noticing herself.

“Ah, it appears I am.” A pause. “It’s all mine, I assure you. Not caused by these fine fellows, either.”

A hot mixture of vexation and fondness flooded the Emperor in a wave. She nearly broke into a strangled sob, but she smothered the impulse down. It wouldn’t do for an Emperor to collapse into hysterics. Edelgard settled for a sigh of immense relief. She sidled up to her lover, glancing to the guard with veiled agitation.

“It’s good to have you back, General,” Edelgard said softly, attempting to keep calm. Her emotions were spinning, lost in a torrential storm. Perhaps Byleth could read that on her face. The woman’s features lost their detached air, and she gazed at Edelgard with deep adoration. The look stole the younger woman’s breath, just as Byleth herself so often did.

“I’m grateful for the rescue, Your Majesty,” Her lover replied, tone just as gentle. “Forgive your wayward soldier. It appears I shouldn’t be allowed to wander the island alone.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep you at my side, won’t I?” Edelgard sent her a pointed stare, willing her to read more than the words said. They would need to clear the air. For good this time; but first, rowing out of the Lower Gaol of Sionnach took priority. Byleth rubbed her wrists as the guard untied the rope, cornflower gaze never faltering from the Emperor.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

“You two are absolutely adorable,” Dorothea suddenly spoke up. She grinned at the both of them, eyes darting to-and-fro. “Oh that settles it! As soon as I can, I am commissioning an opera to be made in your honor. Maybe Bernadetta and Alois would be so kind as to assist...”

“Do that, and I’m never speaking to you again.” Edelgard glared at the other woman, before turning a concerned eye to Byleth. The woman’s injuries didn’t appear severe by any means. Certainly not enough to cause grave concern. The circumstances, however, gave her significant pause. “Come now. We should leave before they get impatient. I doubt the guards appreciate us loitering in their prison.”

“Speak for yourself. I happen to think they adore me.” Dorothea sniffed, tossing her curls.

“I was a model prisoner,” Byleth mused abruptly. “They were a bit leery of me at first, but they were rather kind all things considered.” She turned her head and nodded in the guards’ direction. The tall one waved back and his companion grinned widely.

“Slán! A bheith go maith, Balor-iníon!”

“Slán.” Byleth tilted her head in acknowledgment. She rolled her shoulders before facing the other two women. Then she plucked at her ruined tunic idly. “Shall we leave? I think this shirt is starting to smell.”

The Emperor stared at the odd woman, simultaneously bemused and exasperated. She should have known, honestly. It almost felt like a waste of effort to worry about someone so painfully oblivious. Still, she took her lover’s hand and silently thanked every higher power for her good fortune. Perchance even Her. Edelgard was nothing, if not self-aware. Byleth brought their joined fingers up, lips sliding over pale skin. She kissed her knuckles delicately, thumb brushing against the ring she had given; and Edelgard felt only love and hope in equal parts.

The sun had just began it’s slow retreat over the Brigid horizon when they returned to the castle. Dorothea had sauntered ahead, desperate to relay the good news to her Petra. She did send a parting glance to the Emperor before leaving; pointed and direct. The message was clear, but Edelgard did not need the reminder. She watched the songstress disappear within the castle walls. Then, steeling herself, she pulled at Byleth’s arm. The former mercenary stopped in her tracks and stared down at the younger woman.

“Let’s take a walk for a bit,” Edelgard suggested, peering up into her lover’s questioning face. Byleth stilled, expression shifting from relaxed to faintly resigned. A shadow stole across her features, but perhaps it was merely the fading light of day.

“Yes. I think I would like that.”

And so they headed down the winding path that led to the stretch of beach below the Macneary gardens. The time was spent in silence, neither wishing to break the delicate peace that had settled over them. Yet it was comfortable, if edged with anxious anticipation. Occasionally, their hands would brush and meet, fingers lightly touching. Overhead, the moon crept to exchange a greeting with its fiery sibling. It was a fine evening for a talk such as this, and Edelgard was done with her uncertainty. They would weather this storm as they had all the others, and she had faith they always would.

Love had made an optimist of her, indeed.

**Part 3 – A Conclusion is Drawn (Empathy and Love)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Making your way in the world today takes everything you got~ Taking a break from all your worries- OH! Sorry, I didn't see you there. So a lot of stuff happened this chapter, huh? Some serious stuff, some not so serious stuff. Kind of a mixed bag, but I hope it flows well! (The overarching moral for the day is that one should not leave a Byleth unattended for extended amounts of time. Keep all Byleths in a safe, dry, and secure location.)  
So right off the bat I want to comment on the belief system I created for Brigid. 'The Mother' is heavily drawn from the goddess Brigid/Bride with plenty of creative liberty taken in the goal of giving the archipelago a little more flavor. Amaethon (I.E. Amaeton from the opera) is also from the Celtic pantheon. I forgot to mention it last time. There will be one other mentioned, but it's a plot point and we're not there just yet. I gave up, admittedly, in trying to create a unique language so you just get blatant Gaeilge(irish). I hope it doesn't come across as too shoddy! But if so, remember I'm just a hack cat with a keyboard! (clacketyclack) As for the name of the language...yeah I'm not very clever. It's just Brigid+Gaeilge= Braeilge. Pfft.  
I hope you guys don't mind the OC/NPC created for this chapter. I just needed someone for exposition as well as a basis for Fodlan/Brigid relationships. You guys should be able to tell what most of the people are saying from context, but in the case of the guards feel free to slap those bad boys into google translate as you please (just for bonus coolness of course). The only one which will trip you is the last thing they say to Byleth. It does contain a minor plot spoiler for next time, so if you don't want that I would avoid it entirely (those versed in the mythos will already see what I did, so YMMV).  
We got the exciting conclusion coming up next, so stay tuned my friends! Thank you for reading, and I will see you next time!  
Sometimes you want to go~  
Where everybody knows your naaaame~  
(the author doesn't completely agree with all the lyrics of this song. it's just stuck in my head. halp.) - AdraCat


	3. A Conclusion is Drawn (Empathy and Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm does not last forever, and clouds are merely that. The question has been presented; what is connection?  
An Emperor and General draw their own conclusion.
> 
> Also Known as: Everything is a process, but understanding saves the day.  
The one where much happiness is had~  
Also fishing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
(psst...I love you guys...psst...)  
I hope you enjoy <3

**Part 3 – A Conclusion is Drawn (Empathy and Love)**

The night was cooler than the one’s experienced previously. The air was still a heavy and humid thing, but the sea breeze was plentiful; gusting over sand and rock in even waves. The private stretch of coast afforded to the Macneary family was broad as it was neat. The sand was a pleasant shade of tan, just a shade from young honey, and large fingers of stone oft rose from the earth along the bank. Water lapped at their heels as they walked, shoes long discarded and feet sinking prints in their wake.

Edelgard stayed a step behind her lover. She watched the woman’s back flex with each step, shoulders a hard line of tension. Her hair fluttered behind in a tangled sweep of teal; neck just seen in bare glimpses between each toss of the wind. Byleth stopped as they finally reached the end of the beach. She waded to her knees before stilling, head tilted up to look at the canopy of stars above. As the Emperor observed her, a memory came to the forefront of her mind. A recollection of standing at the edge of a dock with this same sight before her, heart aching from a love yet to be fulfilled. And just as she did then, Edelgard walked up to her side.

Byleth did not look at her, mind still lost to her troubles. But the Emperor was far from deterred. If her lover believed she would shy away, the woman was sorely mistaken. If nothing else, Edelgard had learned how to be courageous in these matters. She was no longer the same faltering girl who believed love was beyond her. As Byleth asserted previously, she was an eagle. And eagles were brave and bold in the face of uncertainty. So the Emperor faced her bravely and took in the tight set of the other woman’s jaw.

Byleth did not move. She was unnervingly still, focused intently upon the open Brigid sky. Edelgard inspected her features in silence. The bruising along her nose was distracting, but not more than the thick crusting of blood along her upper lip and chin. Sighing, the Emperor wet her hands before reaching up to wipe the red stains away. Byleth blinked, squinting slightly, but allowed herself to be cleaned.

“This is familiar, isn’t it?” Edelgard began, allowing a smile to slowly tilt her lips. Her hands fell away, but the older woman kept her silence. She did not allow this to curb her tongue. “You and me under the stars...”

“Yes.” Byleth murmured abruptly. Her chest rose as she took a long breath. “Though at the time, I believe the clouds were obscuring the ones at Garreg Mach. Now we can see them clearly.” She paused, expression turning thoughtful. “I like them, I think. A funny thought, honestly, since I never gave much thought to it before.”

“To stars?”

“To anything, but yes.” Byleth finally looked away from the sky, meeting her gaze. “They’re beautiful and I wish I could have realized that before. My father...he tried to tell me a story about them when I was younger.”

“Really?” Edelgard asked gently. She leaned into her side, relaxing as Byleth allowed the movement.

“We were somewhere near the western edge of Faerghus, camping beside a stream.” Blue eyes glazed with memory, and perhaps more than a little melancholy. “He had been drinking heavily, so his words were slurred, but I remember the story well. It was about a girl who was lost in the wood, alone and frightened, but she found her way home by recalling the stars where she lived.”

“A simple yet practical tale. As expected of Jeralt.” Edelgard felt her lover shift momentarily.

“That was probably the point. But I didn’t say anything to him. I never did, not really.” Byleth swallowed hard, throat flexing. “Unless he asked me a direct question, I typically ignored him. He always made the effort however, even if it was just to comment on something innocuous.”

She slid into contemplative silence. Edelgard waited patiently, knowing not to press her. Eventually, Byleth began again, voice nearly inaudible.

“I wonder how he really felt about me. This broken thing who should have been a daughter...but wasn’t.”

“He loved you with all his heart. I think he made that clear, in the end.” Edelgard stepped around to face her, so that they could look into each other’s eyes. To her shock, tears were glittering upon dark lashes. Byleth smiled, and it was a shaky thing of immeasurable regret.

“I know, but I still wonder...did he always hope that one day I would look up and truly _see_ him? As my father, and not the caretaker I vaguely acknowledged?” The older woman shivered, lips trembling. “Did he always wish to see that I cared for him in return?”

“Byleth...” Edelgard felt her heart lurch, aching for her lover. She took the woman’s face within her palms. The tears fell, spilling down soft skin. She brushed them aside, gentle; reverent. “He did see. You showed him at the very end, how very much you loved him. If nothing else, please believe that to be true.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Byleth seemed to steel herself, drawing back slightly. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. A rare groan of frustration came from her mouth. “Forgive me. We were talking about stars and then I started ranting about my father. Not very logical of me, is it?”

“You can’t help what your thoughts turn to, nor how you feel.” Edelgard stepped closer, unwilling to cede her ground. There would be no running for either of them. Not this time. “It’s part of being human. The uncertainty, the pain, the guilt. Every emotion is one that you have earned. No matter the result.”

“And yet I still falter...” Byleth shook her head. Her cheeks were pale, and her eyes were creased with sadness. “It’s confusing and chaotic. With hardly any rhyme or reason. I can hardly make sense of it all.”

“That’s normal as well.” The Emperor smiled hesitantly. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me...but I cannot help but feel grateful for this change. I loved you as you were back then, all those years ago, but I have grown to love you _more_ as you are now.”

“It’s not selfish. Not when I feel the same.” Byleth stared down at her for a time, gaze searching. She leaned in hesitantly. “I don’t want to go back to how I was; a half-person dreaming through life. I want to stay as I am, with all the pain and confusion that entails. But...”

“But?”

The older woman pursed her lips, brow furrowed with conflict.

“The things I did, El...they weigh on me greatly. Even if I was truly ignorant, I cannot forget the misery I inflicted. The death I dealt without regard or care...and who is to say I will not make the same mistakes again?”

“You are not as you were,” Edelgard insisted, voice firm. She held her lover’s gaze evenly; without compromise. There would be no room for misinterpretation. “You weren’t whole back then. Rhea’s doing, or no. But who you are _now_ is a woman with compassion; who is capable of remorse as well as great love. I’ve seen it, even before Rhea’s demise. Whatever crimes you committed, they hold no bearing on the person you have become. Nor do they mean you will return to that numb state.”

“I want to believe you...” Byleth trailed off. Her voice was rough; pained. “Yet I still feel like a monster. My memories feel like broken glass. A thousand cuts damning me for my inhumanity.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

The older woman chuckled; a sound as dark and bitter as the sea.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Then how about the boy?” Edelgard watched her flinch, but she continued nonetheless. “You said it was murder, but surely the circumstances couldn’t be that simple. Jeralt never struck me as the type to accept a job that entailed something like that.”

“It wasn’t a job.” Byleth sighed heavily. She looked out over the water, gaze distant. “This happened many years ago. We had stopped in a village, and were buying supplies. My father had me go to the stables to pay for a night’s stay. The area was too small for a proper inn, I think.” She fell into a contemplative silence. “The boy was a stable-hand, young and very excitable. He had been impressed by my father, as well as me. For whatever reason.”

“What happened?”

“He showed me around the stable, rattling on about something or another. I forget the specifics. I believe in hindsight he might have been trying to befriend me.” Cobalt eyes flickered, reflecting the water below them. “After a time, I decided to leave and head back to my father. Yet the boy wanted me to stay. He wouldn’t let me go, and kept tugging on my arm.”

Byleth’s mouth twisted; a grimace of shame.

“In my head, I only knew that Jeralt wanted me to return to him. And there was a very blatant obstacle in my way of doing that. So I did what I thought was natural, and removed the..._obstruction_.”

Edelgard sucked in a breath, despite herself. Her lover looked to her shrewdly; evaluating.

“My father had just given me a sword, only a day earlier. He said I needed to learn how to fight; to defend myself in case of danger. But he had yet to instruct me on the proper targets, shall we say.” Byleth closed her eyes, aggrieved. “I shoved it through his stomach, easy as anything. I can still feel the blood wetting my hand, dripping over my wrist and between fingers. Most of all...I can remember the distinct lack of any feeling whatsoever. To me, he was a minor complication that I removed. A boy who just wanted a friend, and received death instead.”

“Byleth...”

“My father, the way he looked at me when he saw what I had done...” She bowed her head, a tendon in her neck straining against the skin. “We left immediately and never looked back. He didn’t meet my eyes for days. Even years later, I would catch him staring at me just as he did back then. Like an unknowable _thing_ he did not know how to deal with. It didn’t bother me then, but now...I can’t stand it.”

Edelgard kept her silence, voice stolen just as it was the other night. She swallowed past the sensation and refused to look away from Byleth’s face. The older woman stared at her with vague detachment, as if to protect herself.

“It’s a horror, El. These memories I bear. That boy wouldn’t be the last victim of my carelessness. My father’s mercenary company had a name for me, you know. The Ashen Demon.” Byleth rubbed her eyes again. She appeared tired all of a sudden, and her shoulders slumped visibly. “You say I will not be like that again. But how can you guarantee that? How can you trust something like me, when I’m a unique existence?”

She took a trembling breath, fast and strained.

“Even now, theoretically whole, I still struggle to communicate how I feel. To connect these emotions with words that mean anything at all. And I can’t help but think that...I will do you great harm in this ignorance of mine.”

The Emperor bit her lip as Byleth seemed to crumple. Her expression filled with agony, arms wrapping around herself. She looked small for once, young in a way the younger woman had never seen before. It was startling, her vulnerability; a side Edelgard had never dreamed she would witness.

The woman was often a pillar of strength, an island amid an ocean of chaos, but that did not mean she needed to be. Nor did that mean she _should_ remain as such. Byleth had always been there for her; time and time again, providing a bastion in the turbulence of her life. Now, it was _her_ turn to be strong. She would be Byleth’s touchstone in this world of endless confusion. A thought came to her, bringing sudden clarity.

“...Byleth.” Edelgard leaned forward and took her hand. She let their fingers mingle, palm meeting palm. Both their hands were bare, scars and callouses free to the night. Heat gathered at the point of connection. “Do you remember the book you gave me?”

“Of course.” Byleth nodded, eyes brightening for a moment. “I would never forget.”

“Why did you do it?” The Emperor softy inquired.

“You were troubled. I wanted to make you feel better,” Her lover said, simple and sure in her devotion, if nothing else.

“And how did you feel when Petra was injured?” Edelgard pressed.

“Scared, and very worried for her.” The other woman stated quietly. A few strands of hair fell in her face, but she did not brush them back. “Then relieved once we got her to the infirmary.”

“And how about your imprisonment? I know for a fact you likely could have fought off those guards. Why didn’t you?” The Emperor gave her a pointed look. Byleth merely cocked her head, lips slanted into a light frown.

“They were just doing their job. I didn’t want to cause them any harm. I would have felt terrible.”

“What of that night behind the shack? When I pulled away from you?”

“Dejected at first. Then ashamed, because I thought I hurt _you_.” The woman blinked at her in confusion. “El...I don’t understand...”

“Someone told me something recently that made me think. A man you will no doubt get along with, considering your attachment to a certain Knight.” Edelgard brushed back a lock of teal, running it behind Byleth’s ear. Her lover stared at her raptly, focused on the words being said. “He said that empathy is how we relate to the world around us. I think he has the right of it. You fear not being able to connect, but you already have. To me, to our friends...even to strangers you do not know. That’s a far cry from the empty person you were.”

Edelgard smiled as genuinely as she could manage, hoping it revealed the depth of her adoration.

“So I want you to do something for me. Remember how you feel about the world around you, and about the people who live in it. Remember each sympathetic pain, and each glimmer of worry. And if you ever doubt your humanity, you need only recall what is already within you. Empathy will be your anchor, tying you to this world; as it does to me.”

“My anchor...” Byleth shifted her attention to the water, expression pensive. She was silent for a long while, thinking. Then she nodded, faint and slow. “I think...I like that idea.”

She wiped her face, posture straightening. Resolve burned in her gaze.

“El, I want to grow and change. I want to experience everything life has to offer. I don’t want to be empty again, and if you say I will not...then I shall believe you. With all my heart and soul.”

“You’ve already grown plenty and you will keep growing.” Edelgard leaned up to kiss her cheek. “I will be by your side for all of it, so no more thoughts of wondering where your place is. No more panic over possibly hurting me. These emotions of yours will never be a burden, and any words you say will always be the right ones.” She trailed a hand along her neck. “You belong here at my side. After all, you made me a promise, remember? Happy and in love?”

“I did.” Byleth slowly smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds; bright and filled with warmth. “It’s the one truth I know. For all my faults, I will do my best to keep that promise. I just worry about being worthy of you.”

“You are more worthy than you know, but to steal a sentiment from one of our friends...” Edelgard wrapped her arms around the other woman’s neck. “I’ll not have any more silly notions of who is worthy of who. You are mine, as I am yours. Consider it an Imperial decree.”

“Then as your loyal soldier, I will do my best to oblige.” Byleth whispered, the shadows fleeing from her face. She gave her a lopsided grin. It was tinged with sadness, but heartfelt and true. “El...I love you. With everything I am. No matter what I was, or who I will become.”

Love welled up and overflowed, bringing with it unimaginable joy. Edelgard sobbed then, relieved beyond words. She threw herself within Byleth’s arms and clung to her back in a fierce embrace. Byleth bent her head and seized Edelgard’s lips fervently, molding their bodies together as if made for that singular purpose.

And perhaps they were meant for it. Pieces who never quite fit anywhere else save for each other’s arms. Two imperfect halves, made whole. It was romantic thought Edelgard could not resist. She loved her and was loved in return. No matter what happened next, that truth would prevail above all else. The world had never been kinder than it was in that moment.

Until a rogue wave stole upon them and drenched them head to toe. Edelgard sputtered, coughing up a mouthful of water. Irritated, she ran a hand through her soaked hair, nose wrinkling at the salted texture. She squinted as Byleth blinked. Then the other woman threw back her head and laughed.

It was deep and full, shaking the woman’s frame in rolling bursts. Edelgard stared at her, awed by the sound. After a time, Byleth tapered into a light chuckle. Her teeth shone in the dark, and her eyes reflected the stars. She had never been more lovely than in that instant, bruises and all. Edelgard’s breath caught, words falling away. Thankfully, Byleth did not share this issue. She tugged them towards the shore, lips drawn into an adoring smile.

“Let’s go, El. I think the ocean has had enough of us for today.”

Hands met, entangling once more; a wordless promise reforged. Love and happiness in all their splendor.

* * *

“I think that might be a cat.”

“You’ve said that for three of them now.”

“Perhaps, but I’m certain this time.”

Edelgard quirked a brow, turning her head to stare at the other woman. Byleth was gazing up at the sky with odd severity. They were laying out on the warm sand, their bodies bare save for their mutual scars. At their feet, a fire crackled and smoked; tossing beams of light across their prone forms. Damp clothing hung over the flames, well out of reach, in an attempt to dry the soaked fibers. They could have retreated back into the castle, but the night was lovely and neither wished to return just yet.

The Emperor had balked at the idea, at first; reluctant at the thought of baring her skin. So much of her body was a ruin, testament to pain and countless years of dark works. But Byleth’s typical detached manner put her at ease, as did the warm look in her eyes. There was no ulterior motive in that cornflower gaze; only love and reverence. The sand was soft beneath them, and the ocean’s breeze soothed over their flesh. Night blanketed them in shadow, intimate for the sparse flickering lights above their heads. And so they had stared up at them, attempting to parse shapes between the scattered points.

It was a childish impulse Edelgard had only done once before, with someone who meant something far different, yet who she had loved all the same. A different kind of family; a different sort of love. She forced away those memories, willing herself to stay in the present. The ghosts of her past would not affect this moment in time. Not with Byleth at her side. As if sensing her thoughts, the woman next to her hummed thoughtfully.

“Maybe not a cat, then. A horse? It’s not bipedal at the very least.”

“You really do love animals, don’t you?” Edelgard smirked at her fondly. “Perhaps we should get another. Your choice this time.”

“I would like that.” Byleth nodded, firm in this opinion. She blinked up at the sky, musing. “It would have to be something Tiny Professor would get along with. I was thinking a dog, myself. Sadly, I’m not well versed in what breeds would go well with an ornery cat.”

“We can ask Bernadetta when we get home. I imagine she might have some idea. Ingrid might know as well.” The Emperor propped herself up on an elbow. She inspected the other woman’s face, taking in the sloping nose and sharp profile. Her eyes narrowed upon the still visible bruising staining her features. “You never said what happened to you last night. Anything I should be terribly concerned with?”

“Oh.” Byleth turned her head, expression falling a bit. Then she sighed, a great heave that shook her shoulders. The action did not inspire confidence, and Edelgard looked at her warily.

“It is really that awful?”

“Not really,” The older woman hedged, mouth pursing. “It’s more...embarrassing than anything else.”

Intrigued, Edelgard peered down at her. Seeming to sense her growing curiosity, her lover took a steadying breath.

“Honestly, El, the story isn’t very interesting. You might be able to glean it from those guards or around town, if you want.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Byleth paused, expression shifting with light surprise. Her eyes widened, lashes fluttering. Then a small huff of amusement came from between her lips.

“...Alright. If you insist.” She leaned back to gaze at the moon. “First, I want to say that I never meant to be away for so long. I only mean to go for a walk and nothing else.” Silence stole over her for a moment. “I apologize for leaving. I shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

“And I should have insisted you stay, or gone after you immediately.” Edelgard moved closer, letting their shoulders meet. She moved her arm down, fingers grazing the edge of her lover’s. “We both made mistakes, but we’re past that now. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes.” Byleth didn’t look at her, but her mouth quirked up. “After I left the castle, I found myself walking along the shore. Rather aimlessly, in truth. I eventually came upon the dockyard. At that point, I had resolved to turn back whence I came, but I was stopped by a group of men.”

“Did they harass you?” Edelgard felt a flicker of protective rage. She reached for Byleth’s hand reflexively. The woman shook her head in denial, but accepted the touch all the same.

“I wouldn’t call it that. They were just curious. Apparently, they saw us disembark the other day, and wondered why the Macnearys were hosting us. I explained to them that we were an Imperial envoy, to discuss terms with the future Queen of Brigid.”

“A fine excuse.” The Emperor hummed, approving. Byleth glanced at her and hesitated.

“I thought so, too. However...one of the men grew a bit irate with me.” Cobalt darkened, levity fading slightly. “His wife had been killed in the war with the Empire, and her body had never been returned home.”

“He told you this?” Edelgard halted, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Wait. _How_ did you hear this? They could speak Fόdlan?”

“No.” Byleth rubbed her neck before blinking at her airily. “Actually, in preparation for our journey here I started learning the language. To be of some use, you see, just in case.”

Edelgard blinked at her for a time, caught off guard.

“Byleth, we only planned this trip a moon in advance. You’re telling me you learned Braeilge in less than five weeks?”

“Is that strange?” The older woman stared at her, seemingly befuddled. “It wasn’t particularly hard. The Imperial Library actually contained a surprising amount of Braeilge texts. They were quite thorough, as well. Many of the words make a strange sort of sense, once you get the general pattern down. I imagine you could do the same, El, if you were of a mind to learn.”

“I doubt that.” The Emperor eyed her wryly, unable to conceal her bemusement. Her lover was full of surprises, it would seem. _A mercenary with the potential to be a polyglot. What a novelty._ An abrupt recollection derailed her thoughts. “Wait, why didn’t you say anything about this earlier? Like when we arrived, or at the opera?”

“I was distracted, admittedly.” Byleth shrugged in her usual blithe manner. “That and it didn’t come up. As for the opera, Petra looked quite eager to explain the story so I decided to let it be.”

Edelgard gave her another measured stare. Then she exhaled slowly, head falling back onto the sand.

“You really are insufferable at times, you know that?” She glanced to her companion, taking in the puzzled tilt of her head. She nudged her side playfully. “But back to the group of men. Did this dockworker attack you?”

“He tried to swing at me, but his friends held him back. They were perfectly cordial and apologetic from what I could tell.” Byleth frowned suddenly. “As they turned to leave, the man was able to wiggle loose. He tried to tackle me, but I put him down easily enough. As gentle as I could manage, I assure you.”

“I’m not particularly concerned over the safety of a man who attacked my General.”

“That’s not very empathetic of you, El.”

Edelgard stared at her for an extended period again; a common thread for this particular conversation. Byleth cracked a small smile; cheeky and impudent as she was starting to become. Her mood had settled admirably, it appeared. The Emperor rolled her eyes, allowing the tease for now. If she felt a thrill of joy at the off-color joke, she refused to admit it.

“Nevertheless, I remain unmoved. Grief is not an acceptable excuse for violence.”

“I don’t disagree, but it is understandable. He might have been drinking, in truth. His breath was rather sour.” Byleth sobered, a thoughtful cast to her face. “After I restrained him, I felt something crack underneath my feet. I was a bit frazzled at the time, so I didn’t notice immediately. I suppose the portion of dock I had been standing on was rotted, because the next thing I knew I was falling into murky water. The man fell on top of me, bashing my face.”

“That’s...” Edelgard struggled on what to say, more than a little stunned. She cleared her throat, simultaneously relieved and exasperated. There really wasn’t anything to fear, after all. Just her odd love being her troublesome self. “I should have known it would be something that ridiculous. So what happened next after that comedy of errors?”

“Well the guards came running, likely drawn by the commotion.” Byleth continued, shrugging her shoulders with nonplussed affect. “The man’s friends scattered, leaving us to explain everything. Unfortunately, the man himself continued to be rather obstinate in his anger so I had to hold him in a headlock. I attempted to tell the guards what happened, but they didn’t appear to believe me. It might have been hard to understand what I was saying, however, considering my nose was leaking blood.”

“I wonder why they didn’t believe you.” The Emperor remarked with a wry smile. Byleth bobbed her head, taking the sardonic comment seriously.

“I did as well, but they must not have been in the mood to listen.” The older woman made a clicking sound with her mouth. “In the end, the man was able to run off without incident and I was taken into custody.”

“A sad end, for a night’s escapade.”

“It didn’t quite end there.” Byleth huffed greatly, and turned onto her side. She looked into Edelgard’s eyes with disarming sheepishness. “On the way to the Lower Gaol, I asked to stop and clean off my face. Just for a bit. They obliged and brought me to a water spout. Now you must understand, I’ve only ever used the ones in Fόdlan so I was curious about the differences.”

“...Did you break it?”

“I did.” The older woman’s expression was oddly grave. “I lifted the handle too far and it snapped off in my hand. Water rushed out and soaked me even further. The guards were rather amused by the whole thing, I believe.”

“Only you, I swear.” Edelgard chuckled and brushed back her lover’s hair. She wrapped a few strands around her index finger, and lightly tugged. “You’ve always been prone to trouble. It’s a miracle the academy didn’t implode with you running around its halls.”

“Well it did, in a way.” Byleth admitted, smiling faintly. “I digress. After that incident, the guards began calling me Balor-iníon.”

“So that’s the term they referred to you as.” Edelgard said, musing over the phrase. She recalled Dorothea’s careful reserve in wanting to translate. Worry settled in her chest. “It’s not terribly insulting is it?”

“Hmm. I suppose it can be, under the right circumstances.” Byleth eyed her, as if measuring her reaction. “From what I learned, Balor is a malevolent spirit who brings misfortune and chaos. ‘Iníon’ means daughter, so they were referring to me as his child.”

“Byleth...” The Emperor’s smile fell, concern for her lover replacing the amusement. Considering their prior talk, the notion of Byleth being seen as ‘evil’ in any way rankled. She stared hard into her eyes, trying to get a read on her emotional state. Byleth didn’t seem bothered by the term, oddly. She merely smiled in reassurance.

“It’s alright, El. They didn’t mean it maliciously. I believe it’s no different than calling an accident prone person clumsy. Which, by their perspective, was rather apt.” The woman carefully pressed on her nose, frowning. The bruising had gone down considerably, but it was still a noticeable mar upon her features. Luckily, Byleth had always been a quick on the mend. “I didn’t exactly inspire confidence, and my time in the Gaol probably reinforced that opinion.”

“How so?” Edelgard asked, somewhat incredulous. What _else_ had her lover gotten up to in that short span of time? Byleth averted her eyes, looking for all the world like Tiny Professor after ruining the furniture. Perhaps, a tad more remorseful than that.

“The Gaol's construction peaked my interest. I wanted to see if the bed supports were embedded into the cavern wall, or merely secured with hinges. It ended up being the latter.” Her mouth pulled up into a slight grimace. “They broke after I yanked a few times, and a piece of metal flew by my head. A poor construction effort on their part. I’ll tell Petra about it after the coronation.”

“There might be more pressing concerns once she’s Queen, but feel free to do so.” Edelgard raised her brows, observing the sincere look in her lover’s gaze. Byleth Eisner; an enigma and a scholar. Said woman nodded emphatically, appearing to like the idea.

“It would be negligent of me otherwise.” Her face smoothed, the abashed set to her expression clearing. She smiled; languid and easy. “It did give me some time to think, you know; laying on cold rock without you by my side. It was a learning experience I shall not forget.”

“Is that so?” Edelgard tugged her hair again gently. Byleth’s answering grin was bright and effusive, an expression her previous self would have never dreamed of making. Deep in her breast, the Emperor’s heart pulsated and sang. It whispered a familiar poem between each beat, and the thorns of doubt she had borne withered to nothing.

“Is é mo chroi leatsa.”

Edelgard blinked at the foreign words.

“What did you say?” She asked.

Byleth peered back at her, eyes twinkling in the dark.

“A mere fact and nothing more.” She reached to brush aside strands of silver, touch lingering above pale skin. Then the woman cupped Edelgard’s cheek, thumb tracing over her bottom lip. “It returned for you. In that last moment...it was for you.”

“You do realize I’m missing the context of what you said.”

“Perhaps you should learn then.” Byleth replied simply, unconcerned. She leaned over, mouth positioned by the younger woman’s ear. Her breath was warm, pleasant, and fanned across sensitive skin. “I can teach you. For old times sake.”

“You are getting bold, General Eisner.” Edelgard allowed the woman to settle atop her, the weight a comforting reminder of life and love. Against her chest, a strong heart beat an endless rhythm against her own. Bare skin met, warm as the look in both their eyes. She tilted her head up and kissed the side of her jaw. “Do you really think you can take liberty with your Emperor in this way?”

“Are you complaining, Your Majesty?”

Edelgard thought for a moment, observing the woman hovering above her. Waves of blue-green hung around them in a curtain, damp and glistening. A cobalt gaze stared evenly; patient, yearning, but far from expectant. There was adoration lying there within the darkened blue, edged with hesitant desire. A question remained; permission yet to be granted. Edelgard tugged her down and captured parted lips. An answer made of several parts, each one grown from love.

_I love you_, she thought in between each wanton kiss. _As I __love__ you, _Byleth seemed to say with each answering caress. In the end, there were no more words; just as it was always meant to be. Only them and the stars would know the secrets of that moment shared. All under a cloudless sky, with only moon and fire for light. Yet the intimacy of darkness did not hide them from each other; and passion exchanged in full before only worship remained. Then, a long while after pulse and breath had slowed to sated repose, Byleth held up their joined hands.

She pressed a kiss to a ring, the moon reflecting off the silver surface. Cornflower met lavender, an understanding shared between equals of heart. Edelgard closed her eyes, fond and knowing; content in what she had found within the woman she loved so deeply. There they slept, entwined amid warm sand and the sound of breaking waves.

* * *

It was already midday by the time they woke and headed back to Castle Sionnach. They ran across the sands, laughing and hands interlocked. The world was a soft-edged thing of dreams realized and hope fulfilled. Bright as the sun above; shadows fleeing in their wake. As they entered through the towering castle door they shared once last embrace; hearts racing in time. Of course the world did not tolerate idlers, so it was that a voice cut through the moment with blunt finality.

“There you are!”

They stilled, pulling away with a jolt. Edelgard turned her head, annoyed, only to see the frazzled form of Dorothea. The woman’s long hair was mussed, and the color was high on her cheeks. She ran down the stairs in a hustle, stopping before the other two women.

“Where in Brigid have you been?!” Dorothea asked, searching their faces incredulously. “I can see why you might miss dinner, but staying out well into the next day…? Honestly, I would expect this from the Professor, but you Edie?”

“Do steady yourself, Dorothea. We were hardly in dire straights.” _Far from it, in fact_. Edelgard cleared her throat, hoping the sudden thought didn’t show on her face. She graced her friend with a supercilious frown; affected, but the other women need not know that. “It was too late by the time we were done with our walk, so we decided to sleep on the beach.

“A walk is it?” The songstress brightened, green eyes dancing. Her prior concern seemed to fade as she grinned. “And a much needed talk I hope?”

“Just so.” Byleth smiled, lopsided. “The Emperor was kind enough to remind me of my place. I do not think I shall be forgetting this lesson any time soon.”

“That sounds promising.” Dorothea clapped her hands, gleeful. “And like quite the story! Mind sharing the details, ladies?”

“You may, in time, at a much later date.” Edelgard flicked back her hair, trying to keep her expression composed. A light flush heated her skin, despite herself. Verdant eyes flicked to somewhere by her neckline. Then Dorothea’s expression slid into something crafty.

“My, my...Edie, what is that on your neck?”

The Emperor pursed her lips, reaching up instinctively.

“A terrible bug bite, I’m certain.” She prevaricated, averting her gaze. Her fingers thumbed over the skin of her throat, cursing her fair complexion. That, and an amorous woman with more passion than sense. At her side, Byleth kept her bland expression; though her eyes were glittering with pride and mirth.

“I have a few marks myself.” The former professor remarked bluntly. She ran a hand through her shaggy locks, not ashamed in the slightest. “Scratches on my back, in fact. A curious species of bug you have here in Brigid.”

“A bug is it?” Dorothea laughed gaily. She sidled up to bump against Edelgard’s shoulder, smirking in the sly way she was prone to. “Well now, perhaps I should journey spend a night on the beach myself; to check for this mysterious bug. Once Petra is done with the coronation, of course.”

“It’s today, isn’t it?” Edelgard inquired quickly, desperate for a change in subject. She wasn’t exactly abashed at the conversation, she trusted her friend far too much, but such things didn’t need to be discussed in a public venue. Thankfully, Dorothea stiffened; eyes widening.

“Ah! That’s right!” The woman lunged at them, trying to push them back through the great doors. “We need to head down to the ceremony site. King Eagan is already there, and I refuse to be late. The last thing I need is to sour his opinion on me further.”

“I thought the coronation would be in the castle.” Edelgard stumbled a bit, but recovered smoothly. She shot the taller woman a puzzled glance. “And where is Petra? Isn’t she there as well?”

“It’s a long and tedious story.” Dorothea huffed, expression falling. “But to summarize, Brigid’s customs demand that the prospective ruler sail from Sciath to Sionnach at the break of dawn, and swim the length of the island north to south. Then they must crawl out of the water and meet at, um...what was the name...Suíochán an Chéad Rí, before night falls.”

“First King’s Seat.” Byleth uttered with a nod. She tilted her head up in thought. “A fitting name, for a place to crown the next monarch. I wonder what the story behind it is.”

“I’m sure Petra will be able to tell you later.” Edelgard offered her lover an affectionate smile. She spied Dorothea’s tight frown, and quirked a brow. “Is something wrong, Dorothea? I thought you would be more excited.”

“I was. Rather, I am!” The songstress worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “But after what happened the other day, I admit I’m worried. Her leg is mostly healed, but to swim the entire length of Sionnach, and then climb up the steep path to a moldy ruin? If it’s not a shark, I worry a terrible fall onto sharp rocks will take her from me.”

“Petra is strong,” Byleth asserted definitively, voice firm in her conviction. “And she has you to come back to. She will be careful. I know it.”

“Thank you, Professor. That does make me feel a bit better. Only a bit, but it’s better than nothing.” Dorothea blinked rapidly, before shaking her head in a whirl. “But never mind that! We need to go to the western edge of the island! With luck, King Eagan will be too preoccupied to notice our delay.”

“Is it really that steep? Shouldn’t we get dressed, or at least put on proper shoes?” Edelgard frowned as her friend tried to tug her forward. “The sun isn’t due to set in another couple hours. Surely we can take the time to clean up.”

“The path won’t be that bad for us.” Dorothea made a light noise of frustration, but it was clear it wasn’t towards either of them. She was staring pensively over Edelgard’s shoulder, lost in thought. “There’s a road which leads up the hill, and the cliff-side is marked with steps. Petra took me a week ago so I would be familiar with the area.”

“Hmm. That doesn’t sound that terrible, in truth.” Byleth tilted her head and rubbed her neck, expression somewhat wistful. “The swim would be hard, I’m sure; but then you take a relaxing walk up a hillside. A pleasant idea, actually.”

“Oh, did I give you the impression Petra would be walking?” Dorothea tittered, the sound tinged with slight hysteria. “No, no, no...you see that would be _far_ too simple. Instead, her daft ancestors decided that the future monarch should climb up a slippery cliff-face. _Right_ after taking an obscenely long swim no less!”

“Ah. In that case, I see why you might be pressed for time.” Byleth mused, rubbing her jaw. Dorothea stared at her for a long moment.

“Professor...you really aren’t fazed by anything, are you?”

Genuine confusion clouded the older woman’s face. Edelgard watched their interaction with fierce amusement mingled with warmth. Her lover was odd indeed, but she would not trade her for the world. The Emperor smiled broadly when Byleth cocked her head to the side, blue eyes wide and questioning.

“Of course I am, Dorothea. What a strange thing to say...”

* * *

While time was fast moving indeed, Edelgard refused to spend another moment covered in sand, seawater, and other unmentionables. Dorothea was none too pleased, but the woman allowed her friends to tidy themselves nonetheless. When they were finally clean and dressed, they embarked on the long walk to the western end of Sionnach. While the other sides of the island were densely packed with homes and stalls, the west was curiously bare. An open hillside draped the landscape in a tide of lush green and sun-scorched brown.

While it did not appear Sionnach supported significant agriculture, herds of wildlife were plentiful and vast. As they trekked across the rural roads, a goat herder waved in their direction. Edelgard smiled gently as Byleth stopped to pet one of the animals. She exchanged a few words with the man, the rolling Brigid language falling off her tongue with ease. It was only when the billy began to gnaw on the cuff of her trousers, that Byleth had the mind to back away.

After an hour’s pleasant walk, the three arrived at the Sionnach’s western edge. According to Dorothea, the place Petra would have to climb was detached from the island itself. The First King’s Seat was a ruin that had been rent in twain by an earthquake some decades earlier, creating two separate cliffs that hovered in parallel. A rather flimsy looking rope-bridge connected the two, it’s length swaying in the wind. The aforementioned Seat itself was not hard to spot. It was an obelisk of dark stone and carved beams of wood, twice the size of a man with the royal arms of Macneary etched into it’s back. Curiously, parts of the stone appeared to be stained with an unknown substance; the color a mottled burgundy. With the ruins fractured, and the sun beaming down upon the Seat, it was as if the heavens declared it worthy.

Edelgard was impressed, if skeptical of the pragmatic application of such a trial. Her own coronation was a staid affair by comparison; not that she envied Petra by any means. She eyed the sheer rock-face that arched up from the water. It was sixty meters at the very least, with a bed of jagged rocks lying in wait. She frowned deeply. Byleth, appearing to sense her concern, clasped her hand in a reassuring grip. Dorothea was noticeably wan at their side, features blanched and eyes pinned to the thrashing waves.

A watching crowd of celebrants were waiting at the chasm’s edge, eyes boring down in the roiling water below. Many cheered at random intervals, and others sat at the cliff-side while staring out over the sea. Edelgard squinted in the distance as a tall figure appeared from behind the Seat. King Eagan stalked along the stone edifice, posture stiff-backed and proper despite his hobbling walk. She could not make out his face from where she stood, but did not imagine he would be panicked in the slightest.

The people of Brigid were proud and traditional, fiercely devoted to their mysterious ‘Mother’. A trial of this magnitude was likely meant as some sort of display to their Goddess. Akin to Sreng blood-letting, or a Morfis hair-shirt. It was odd, and primitive by Imperial standards, but it was not meant for her to completely understand. Only to accept as something that their friend must do. That did not make it easy, or bearable, to watch as Dorothea began to pace frantically.

“What am I doing here?! I need to charter a boat, or a raft, or _something_.” The songstress wrung out her hands and darted to the edge. She peered down, brow furrowed into a fierce line. “Do you think outside help is allowed? Just as a hypothetical. If I say, threw a rope into the water as she passed? Or maybe––”

“I don’t think Petra would accept it, even if it was allowed.” Edelgard remarked. She stepped to the anxious woman’s side and placed a hand along her arm. “Dorothea, please, calm down and think rationally. These traditions have been in place for hundreds of years. We cannot intervene, no matter how barbaric it seems to us.”

“The voice of reason as always, Edie. I almost hate you for that.” Dorothea pursed her lips, arms drawing tight across her frame. She swallowed hard, sheer terror coloring her expressive face. “I just...I can’t lose her. She’s all I have left. If something happened...and I just stood by and did _nothing_, I would never forgive myself.”

“She’s a warrior, and the future Queen.” Byleth walked to the other side of Dorothea. She glanced out over the horizon, stance relaxed and confident as ever. “This was what she was born to do. So she will do it. Just as you were meant to be by her side.”

“You sound awfully sure of yourself, Professor.” Dorothea sighed, worry deepening the line of her brow.

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Byleth looked to Edelgard briefly, and smiled; eyes flashing with a bold certainty that stole the Emperor’s breath. “That Mother of theirs already sent you her way once. I doubt She would do that unless She had plans for Petra. Take heart, Dorothea, and trust in something beyond what you know.”

“I never took you for a believer of Gods, or any faith, Professor. Considering Edie’s stance on it and all...”

“Gods can be kind.” Byleth nodded, crossing her arms. “A bit childish too, but mostly kind. I knew one once.”

“...Do I even want to know?” Edelgard eyed her lover for a long moment, trying to read her face. The older woman had an odd sense of humor, and it was often hard to tell when she was joking. Yet it seemed Byleth was being completely serious. She blinked down at the Emperor, the wind tossing her hair.

“Hmm. Maybe not.” She paused, gaze trailing down the younger woman’s form. It was an atypically suggestive glance, and Edelgard flushed in response. “I might be convinced to tell you...at a much later date.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” The Emperor replied, holding that dark cobalt stare.

“Your flirting both annoys and thrills me.” Dorothea cut in, huffing dramatically. She tossed her hair, and managed a weak grin. “But you’re both right, much to my dismay. I’ll have to content myself with waiting, and hope to all the higher powers that my Petra comes back to me in one piece.”

The songstress startled as a harsh cry sounded from the gathered crowd. The three women turned their heads to look in their direction. Men were jumping in excitement, voices raised to the sky. A few pointed at the water, gesturing to the rocks of Suíochán an Chéad Rí. The Emperor squinted, trying to discern what had caught their attention. The answer came in the form of Petra, drenched and trembling, who burst from the waves. The princess clung to the sheer cliff, hands desperately searching for a hold. All the while, violent torrents of water flooded over her head and body. Edelgard heard Dorothea take a frightened breath.

Up above, where the Seat lay in wait, King Eagan gave a hearty shout. The crowd around them quieted instantly. They turned their eyes to their past monarch, rapt. Then the man began to speak, voice straining over wind and sea.

“I’ll translate,” Byleth offered suddenly. Her eyes slid to Dorothea for a time. Edelgard glanced at the other woman as well. Unlike everyone else in attendance, the songstress didn’t appear to care what the King had to say. She was too distraught over her lover’s form, barely breathing in her overcome state. Some things were far more important than formality and ceremony. Meanwhile, Petra had made significant headway. She was catching her breath on the rocks, chest heaving with effort. Edelgard shifted her eyes back to King Eagan.

“What’s he going on about exactly?”

“He’s explaining the significance of...an Turas, I believe he called it,” Byleth explained quickly. Her brow furrowed, concentrating on the words being said. “The Journey. It’s meant as a reenactment of the path taken by the first King of Brigid. Apparently, the man’s ship capsized and he had to swim one-hundred leagues until he reached dry land. However, he received a vision from the Mother, who demanded he climb the tallest peak in devotion to Her and claim the islands in Her name.”

“Petty and demanding. This goddess is beginning to sound familiar.” Edelgard rolled her eyes. Byleth merely tilted her head in acknowledgment.

“It’s a common thread, I find. With people in places of absolute power.” She paused, considering. “Other than you, El. You are pleasantly without those flaws.”

“Flatterer.”

“Not at all.” Byleth smiled gently. “But back to his speech...it seems the King obeyed the Goddess, and in return he was granted the right to rule over the land he had found. He brought all his people from across the sea; from a distant land that has since been forgotten by time.”

“How convenient.”

“Maybe so, but it is an interesting take on their history. I wonder what the truth of it is.”

Suddenly, King Eagan clapped his hands before raising them to the sky. The crowd did the same, fingers reaching for the heavens. All was silent for a time. Slowly, the King walked to the edge of the edifice, gaze never roving from his granddaughter. He opened one hand, and used the other to draw a knife from his belt. Quick as a snake, he sliced into his palm. Edelgard winced, a pang of sympathetic pain striking her. She hated hand wounds; especially in that location. The reminder was...unpleasant. As if sensing her distress, Byleth draped an arm across her shoulders; squeezing tight.

The King backed away, holding out his bleeding appendage. Then he reached out and smeared the back of the Seat, crimson staining the stone deeper. _So that’s what that was. _A curious ritual indeed, but the Emperor supposed it made a strange sort of sense for a deeply religious people. The Central Church had held its own oddities, dragon notwithstanding. She turned her attention to Petra as a certain songstress tensed.

The princess had already traveled about a quarter of the cliff’s expanse. She was slow, methodical, and did not seem spent in the slightest. A testament to Brigid fortitude. Long moments passed, fraught with quick breaths and scattered nerves, as Petra crawled her way up. Overhead, the sun was already beginning its slow decline; and deep below, the craggy rocks bared their teeth in grisly hunger. A lifetime passed, it seemed, as fingers sought within slick limestone and basalt. Half the journey up, Petra staggered as her foot slipped. Dorothea made a strangled noise deep in her throat, hands flying to her mouth. Fortunately, the princess recovered and continued her trek with careful efficiency.

After hours of slow progress, the end was near. Petra arched her body along the cliff’s edge, arms shaking and long hair blowing chaotically. Her hands grabbed the ruined edifice, and then with a massive heave she pulled herself aloft. She collapsed upon the stone in a heap, not moving for a time. Edelgard exhaled slowly, relief breaking upon her like a wave. She chanced a look at Dorothea. The woman was crying, tears dripping down her skin. Yet a smile as wide as the sunrise, and twice as bright, appeared on her face.

Across the chasm, King Eagan broke into a similar smile. The first one to grace his face since their arrival. He approached his granddaughter, and knelt before her. Then the man used his bleeding hand to press against her brow. Petra stirred, head raising up. She crawled to her legs once more. The woman appeared to steel herself for a moment, testing her leg strength. Then she inhaled visibly, before striding towards The First King’s Seat. With confidence born of assured destiny and purpose, the princess took her place on the throne.

It was done. Petra Macneary was Queen, and no one could deny her worthiness to rule. The spectating mass broke their silence and shouted in jubilation; pride for the woman clear. The Brigid Archipelago had a new ruler; one who would hopefully usher in an age of prosperity. It was a desire that Edelgard wanted to come to fruition as well, and she would do her best to assist her friend in the endeavor.

The Emperor watched, inordinately pleased, as King Eagan placed a crown of black metal upon the woman’s head. A new age had dawned, just as it had for her once upon a time. The world was better for it, and would continue to be improved for countless years to come. Next to her, she heard Dorothea sob with joy. Byleth made a faint noise, perhaps of amusement or satisfaction; Edelgard could not say.

“Shall we go to her?” The woman asked in her usual plain manner. Her mouth was curved into a happy slant. “I imagine she’ll have some trouble walking after all that.”

Edelgard glanced at the new Queen, observing the slight shake of her shoulders. She nodded shortly.

“Yes. I think we shall.”

They turned away from the cliff’s edge, but Dorothea was faster. She darted off in the direction of the rope bridge, dark-hair flying behind her. The woman paid no heed to the drop below, and dashed across the planks enthusiastically. Petra looked up just in time to be pulled into a fierce embrace. There they stood, arms wrapped and lips locked, with the sun painting a tapestry of color behind them. Reds, golds, and every hue between. From afar, King Eagan observed the both of them for a time. Edelgard blinked, taken aback, as a fond grin worked its way along weathered features. The world really was a strange and unknowable thing, filled with endless surprises.

* * *

The celebration that ensued was both vast and grand. Those who had attended the crowning, and many who had not, all journeyed to the main shore of Oileán Sionnach. Torches and tables lined the sand in rows; with no particular rhyme or reason. The market place merchants had re-purposed their stalls to bear food and drink; and were hocking them just as voraciously. People chased and weaved down the docks, eyes turned to the center of the shore; where the royal family sat atop a large dais.

Petra was seated at the head, smile wide and eyes glittering in the dark. To her left, the former King Eagan gazed out over the collection of people. His expression was unreadable, but he nodded his head slightly as people stopped to bow before the dais. To her right, Dorothea leaned against the Queen; hands resting along the crook of Petra’s arm. Her eyes were focused upon her love, not daring to look away.

“They look happy, don’t they?” Byleth mused. She was gnawing thoughtfully on a curious ovular fruit. The skin was bright yellow, with striations of orange throughout. Edelgard eyed it warily, shaking her head when her lover proffered one for her consumption. She had learned her lesson after eating the flesh of a particularly rank specimen. Her palate could only stand so much.

“I imagine the threat of Petra’s demise had something to do with that. But yes, they do seem rather happy.” The Emperor smiled, watching as Petra leaned in to whisper something in Dorothea’s ear. The songstress giggled, before entangling a finger through a stray braid. “A well earned respite for the new Queen of Brigid and her prospective wife.”

“Hmm.” Byleth dusted off her hands, gaze sliding to where King Eagan was resting. “And do you think he will allow that? He was determined not to bless the union, as I recall.”

“I’ve resolved to look for the best outcomes in life.” Edelgard tucked herself into the older woman’s side. She let her head fall, leaning against a firm shoulder. Warmth bloomed as Byleth wrapped an arm around her waist. “You’ve ruined my pessimistic streak, you see. A grievous hindrance that I will address later.”

“A terrible thing indeed.” Byleth chuckled, a light thing of wishes granted. _And of faith fulfilled_. The Emperor would never become one of the devout, the blood that had been spilt could not be appeased so easily; but she was a woman who paid her debts. And she did owe some measure of gratitude. The heart pounding underneath her ear was a reminder of that. _You did one thing right. But only the one. _Edelgard opened her eyes, gaze catching on brilliant blue. _Let’s see if you can do another._

“Cairde!”

A man suddenly sidled up next to them, beaming from ear-to-ear. It was Hagan, as well as a much slighter man trailing behind him. The big man grinned and thumped a great beefy hand on his companion’s back.

“Look, Rudd! See who it is? I _told_ you I spotted the Emperor hiding over here!”

The other man merely rolled his eyes, adjusting his spectacles. Edelgard observed him silently. He looked vaguely familiar, but it was hard to place his features. They made a peculiar couple, in truth. While Hagan was a veritable giant with dark coloring, his husband was willowy and composed of fair hues. His light green eyes swiveled to inspect the Emperor.

“So it is. Forgive my husband’s lack of courtesy, Your Majesty.” The man bowed deeply, the long tail of his hair falling over his shoulder. “Rudeger von Vestra. I believe my distant cousin is now Head of House, is he not?”

“Oh.” Edelgard blinked, the revelation startling her. Suddenly, she could see the familiar angular features of her retainer upon the man’s face. “You’re Hubert’s cousin? I never knew he had family who lived in Brigid.”

“There’s a simple reason for that, Your Majesty.” The man sniffed, mouth pursing. “I’ve been the black stain upon the honorable Vestra name for years. I don’t imagine my cousin is aware of the particulars, nor of me. My father was rather _insistent_ that I be stricken from the record, as it were.”

“Black stain?” Byleth cocked her head, puzzling over the term. Across from them, Hagan heaved a great sigh.

“Please do not get him started! He will rant at you for hours!”

“I only rant, because it is absurd!” Rudeger visibly bristled, lime gaze flashing. “I was a venerated scribe for the Imperial Scholastic Society of Enbarr. Yet one theory rankled the wrong feathers, and I was accused of ideological sedition!”

“Theory?” Edelgard eyed him. She wasn’t quite certain she wanted to know, in truth. Rudeger huffed, tossing his bangs.

“I presented a hypothesis that the compulsion to carry on Crest blood was tied to a deep-seated aversion towards those with same-sex leanings. I thought it was a terrible injustice; especially since a few of my fellow scholars had already presented the notion that Crests could not be passed to children created through the use of magic.”

“Is that true?” The Emperor pried, unable to conceal her interest. The notion was strangely compelling.

“Well it’s not like they thoroughly tested it. I even offered to conduct a baseline study.” The former lord scowled, crossing his arms. “But the mere fact of the matter is that they refused to consider my theory! I would call foul, but I highly suspect a few Church officials had a hand in getting me sacked.”

“What for? The Empire is hardly lacking in progressives. We’re not the Kingdom, rather _former_ Kingdom.”

“Perhaps I defaced a public monument, or two. It was harmless self-expression in my opinion. Those Central Church ninnies overreacted! And the people needed to know the grave bias being expressed within the Church ranks. Science was a mere formality at that point.” He straightened his tie with histrionic vigor.

“That was many years ago, Mo Ghrá...” Hagan chuckled faintly, scratching his jaw. Rudeger didn’t appear appeased. He narrowed his eyes before turning his attention to the Emperor.

“I’ve been keeping track of Imperial policy over the years, and let me just say that if nothing else; I approve of the direction you’re taking the country. I wasn’t much one for Ionius, Goddess keep him, but you seem a proper sort.”

“That is...” Edelgard stared at him, raising a lone brow. “Rather blunt of you. But I thank you nonetheless.”

“You’re welcome.” Rudeger nodded firmly.

“Lacking in tact as ever!” Hagan chortled mightily, brushing a hand through the short bristles of his hair. “Forgive him, cairde; he means well. I promise you!”

“I don’t need you to apologize for me, Hagan. I’m quite capable of it, should I choose to be.” The thin man paused, his gaze catching on Byleth for a time. “I’m sorry, but are you the Emperor’s bodyguard? Captain...?”

“Byleth Eisner.” Her lover replied easily. She smiled in greeting. “I’m the Emperor’s.”

“You’re the Emperor’s…what exactly?”

“I’m just hers. No title necessary.”

“She’s the General of my personal army.” Edelgard interjected, hoping to cut off any potential misunderstandings. The way the woman phrased her words could be misconstrued in several _unfortunate_ ways. Spurious rumors had been created from less, after all. “As well as a trusted friend...and companion.”

“Ah.” Rudeger’s eyes widened with clarity. He adjusted his spectacles. “Then it seems Adrestia has a bright future, indeed. I almost regret leaving now, but I don’t imagine a fugitive like me would be welcomed back.”

“You would leave me, Mo Chroi?” Hagan pouted, the expression comical for his broad features. His husband only rolled his eyes.

“Oh, do stop that. I would take you along with me, barring I don’t get arrested on sight.”

“I could always pardon you.” Edelgard offered, amused by the man’s sharp manner. He reminded her of Linhardt, oddly enough. Rudeger only huffed, dusting off his lapel.

“Pardon implies I did something wrong, and I maintain that I was the _victim_ in that scenario. No, I think not, Your Majesty. I will bear being the stain of House Vestra for as long as I live. It’s a mark of honor at this point.”

“My Rudd is a stubborn man of principles.” Hagan wrapped his spouse in a fierce hold, dragging him lightly off the ground. His smile was full of immense pride, teeth glinting in the dark. Rudeger himself sputtered a bit, but the Emperor noticed he bore a hint of satisfaction at the praise. He cleared his throat before squirming out of Hagan’s hold.

“Come now, dear; let us away. I doubt the Emperor and her beau wish to entertain us old fogies all night.”

“As you will, Mo Ghrá.” The big man gave them one last friendly grin. The two men both bowed respectfully, before striding off. Edelgard blinked as a thought came to her.

“Hagan?”

The man stilled in his tracks. He peered back in curiosity. Edelgard offered him a slight tilt of her head. She smiled as genuinely as she could manage, leaning deeper into Byleth’s side.

“Thank you for the talk the other day. It was very educational.”

Hagan laughed; languorous and deep. It sounded like a wave rolling over the shore.

“You are very welcome, Emperor!” He slung a companionable arm over Rudeger’s neck. “Now you two have fun, eh? And watch over our Queen and her future wife! I imagine they will need all the support they can get.”

“Of course.” Edelgard bobbed her head, watching as they vanished into the milling crowd of people. They were an odd pair, perhaps, but strangely well suited. The world was full of surprises, and her own story was enough proof of that. Byleth bent down and kissed her brow. Warmth flooded her chest.

“Edie!” Dorothea abruptly appeared in her periphery. The woman practically danced across the sand, dress billowing with the wind. Her face was pulled up into a heart-breaking smile; cheeks flushed pink. “Can you believe it? Oh, it’s a dream!”

“What is?” Byleth inquired airily. Dorothea made a particularly excited squeal, arching up on the tips of her toes.

“King Eagan gave his blessing!” She paused, as if to reconsider something. “Or rather, he said he’s open to the idea.”

“Did he? What exact words were said?” The Emperor shifted her gaze to the man in question. The former monarch was gazing out over the ocean, submerged up to his feet in water. His face was unreadable, though the line of his mouth was still tight.

“He said the Mother was willing Dorothea to my side.” Petra appeared from behind the songstress, wrapping both arms about her waist. The Queen’s grin was broad, stretching the curved mark upon her face. “Grandfather is not wanting to fight against the will of spirits and the Mother. He will take the time to try accepting, for my sake.”

“A surprising concession. Though not really a definitive answer.” Edelgard sighed, flipping back a few stray locks of hair. The other two women did not seem deterred in the slightest; their spirits too high for the foibles of semantics.

“Maybe not, but I’ll take it!” Dorothea laughed, turning her head to kiss her lover’s cheek. “As long as he’s willing to try and not upsetting my Petra, I think we can come to an understanding.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” Byleth’s mouth twitched up, eyes shining. “I’m happy for you both, even if there’s no guarantee for the time being.”

“Thank you, Professor!” Dorothea and Petra both chorused, wearing matching expressions of joy. Edelgard smiled at them, amused by the perpetual deference they showed towards her lover. Byleth would always be the woman who guided them in their hour of need; a figure of great respect and knowledge. She already held the affections of an Emperor as well; had the woman the mind for it, she could potentially conquer the rest of the known world just by showing vague interest.

The thought of Byleth ruling over anything with the same blank affect proved amusing, and she chuckled in response. Her lover looked down at her, brow raised.

“Something to share, El?”

Edelgard pointedly avoided her gaze, wiping away her smirk. She was not quite successful, judging from the shrewd gleam in cobalt eyes.

“Not at all.” Abruptly, Edelgard extricated herself from the older woman’s side. She flicked back her hair, offering her friends a slight bow; deeper than she had ever given. “I formally congratulate you, Queen Petra. I look forward to working with you in all future matters of diplomacy with Brigid. Now if you will excuse me, I think I’ll get something to drink.”

“I can always fetch it for you.” Byleth offered. The Emperor merely waved her hand to decline.

“No, no. You stay and talk with our friends...” She trailed off, giving her a measured look. “Don’t you have something important to tell Petra? About the structural integrity of a certain Gaol, perhaps?”

Byleth’s eyes widened. Then she whipped her head to face the curious Queen.

“Petra, you really must correct the conditions of the Lower Gaol. I was rather dismayed to find the bedding...”

Edelgard wandered away from the three women, catching Dorothea’s eye on the way. The woman had looked at her, seemingly puzzled, but she did not offer an explanation. This was a task she would need to accomplish herself. Instead of making her way to the re-purposed market stalls, Edelgard strode in the direction of Eagan Macneary. The older man had not moved from his spot by the shore, and neither had his line of sight. He looked lost in thought, brow dipping with the weight of it. Eagan did not move, even as she moved to stand by his arm.

“A fine evening to you, Lord Eagan.” She greeted, keeping her tone pleasant. There was no need to incite hostility, even if she was still irked by their prior conversation. Being called a snake of any sort was still a wound that festered. His dark eyes flicked to her briefly. Then he exhaled, and his tall frame seemed to fold.

“Emperor...” Eagan’s jaw twitched, and he made a noise of frustration. “Your Majesty. I suppose I cannot avoid formality now, considering Petra is Queen.”

“No need to stand on ceremony. You are the grandfather of a dear friend.”

“Do not mock me.”

“I am being completely serious, I’m afraid.” Edelgard leaned back on her heel, and stared up into the bright canopy of stars. “Dorothea tells me you gave your blessing. Or that you are considering it at the very least. I have to admit, I’m a bit baffled. It seemed to me that you were dead-set on being a pest.”

“Only a fool denies the Mother’s plan. And while I am set in my ways, I am not a fool.” He ran a thoughtful hand down the length of his beard. “...She saved my Petra. The last of my family. The Mother sped her to Petra’s side by the right of divine will. That much is clear to me.”

“Your people take happenstance quite seriously.”

“There is no _happenstance_. No coincidences. The Mother is absolute in Her power, and guides Her hand where is it needed.” The man sniffed, but it sounded more melancholic than arrogant. “And it was for the girl Dorothea, that Petra was able to overcome ‘an Turas’. I saw it when they embraced. My granddaughter found the strength because of her.”

Eagan stilled. He tightened his grip upon his cane.

“It makes me remember a time...when I also loved so deeply. It is a funny thing, to be reminded of something I lost long ago.”

“You felt it, didn’t you? The depth of what they feel for each other.” Edelgard eyed him silently for a moment. She watched as the line of his shoulders unraveled, leaving only a sense of defeat.

“I did. And I cannot stand in their way forever.” The man turned to face her in full, umber gaze even. “I lost both my sons to the Mother. One by his own hand, and one by mine. I will not lose Petra because I refuse to abide Her will. I am too old to rage at the spirits.”

“Then…?”

“The girl Dorothea will be given my attention. I will grant her this chance to prove herself to me. When I am content with what I see, I will bless the union.”

“I see. In that case, one great concession deserves another.” Edelgard straightened, injecting her voice with the authority her station demanded of her. She addressed him directly, staring deep into his eyes. “I am going to amend all military doctrine and practices to take the funeral rites of differing cultures into account. What happened to your son and countless other Brigid soldiers, will not be allowed to happen again. And should you wish it, I will order Count Bergliez to make a formal apology.”

“You...” Eagan drew back, visibly stunned. His throat bobbed, and his weathered face creased with incredulity. “You would do this? Even should war spark between our nations once more?”

“I trust that won’t happen, but yes. I will.” She graced him with a confident smile. “It was an oversight in the first, and I am not going to allow it to remain. You may not believe me, Lord Eagan, but I am far from the serpent you fear.”

The shadow of wings came to mind, as did scales which shone with opalescent light. But so did the end, glorious and grand, as two blades rent a beast asunder.

“That serpent has already met its end, and I will not allow another to take its place.”

“...You say things I do not understand.” The former King bowed his head. His whiskered cheeks pulled and he closed his eyes. “Trust is earned, Emperor. But it cannot be gained unless I allow it. So I will do the same as I do for the woman Dorothea. I will do my best to believe, and hope I am not disappointed.”

He raised his head to the sky, searching for something within the stars. Or perhaps the moon, eye of his Goddess that it was.

“Bheadh grá agat di, Mo Ghrá. Canann sí díreach mar a rinne tú.”

Edelgard did not know what it was he said in that moment. She did not ask, either. His words were not for her, and the sentiment behind it was a private matter. Perhaps she would try to ask Byleth later, if she could remember all the words. Overhead, the stars shone in peaceful serenity; twinkling with knowledge they would never reveal.

* * *

“This would go much smoother if you held still.”

“Interesting. Are you admitting to difficulty?”

Edelgard raised her head, hand stilling. She glared at her lover, the woman not deigning to meet her eyes. They were sitting upon the Macneary family dock, Byleth holding a fishing rod at the ready. The Emperor’s own hands were preoccupied with a small canvas. It was a hobby she had taken to honing after seeing blue eyes light up with delight upon presenting a painting. It had been a shoddy effort, in truth. Far from her usual standard of perfection. Yet Byleth had adored it all the same, and she yearned to see that frank admiration again. She set her stencil aside, miffed.

“Only because the subject is being unruly. When dealing with the delicate balance of light and forms, it is upon the person being sketched to pay due attention. It’s only the courteous thing to do. Bernadetta taught me that.”

“You always were a diligent student.” Byleth tossed her line with a snap of her wrists. Edelgard spotted the side of her mouth curve with mirth. “A shame you inspired within me the desire to rebel against authority. You’ve been a terrible influence, El.”

“My influence, is it?” Edelgard huffed, feigning exasperation. If her heart leaped traitorously, she made no mention of it. The woman did not need to develop an egotistical streak on top of her other oddities. She would love her regardless, of course, but there was no point in tempting fate. Byleth tilted her fishing rod, kicking her heels lightly against the dock.

“Hmm. You know, I’m a little disappointed Petra and Dorothea are still sleeping. I was hoping we could all spend the morning together.” The older woman used a finger to test the line. She frowned after a moment, evidently dissatisfied. “It is our last day in Brigid, after all.”

“I imagine the events of yesterday proved tiring.” And likely whatever they got up to after returning to the castle. Her own night had been busy with pleasant diversion; such was the way of love. Edelgard felt her cheeks heat with the memory. She heard Byleth hum in dim acknowledgment.

“A great trial. I’m tempted to replicate the feat myself.”

“You reconsider that impulse, less I be tempted to lock you within the Goal for your own good.” The Emperor glowered at her, deadly serious. She would not chance her lover’s life for a bit of curiosity. The woman had already gotten herself into enough trouble with her idle hands. Byleth was unmoved, shrugging glibly.

“I am yours, El. So I shall do as you bid.” She bent her head back, and eyes the color of the sky met irked lavender. Her smile was soft, rounded with sunlight and devotion. Edelgard took a quick breath, moved by the sincerity seen in that gaze. She attempted to gather herself, and glanced back to the canvas.

“As long as you keep that in mind,” The Emperor said gently.

“Of course.”

They spent the next few moments in contemplative silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. Every so often, the sound of splashing water and a stencil working canvas would hit the air. Above, a flock of birds cried in greeting. Below, the ocean continued its sweet murmur. It was peaceful, and a moment Edelgard would keep forever. Byleth suddenly broke the silence after a time.

“El...would you mind coming here for a moment?”

The Emperor looked to her, somewhat perplexed. The other woman wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were fixed upon the line of her fishing rod. Not seeing the harm in obeying the request, Edelgard did as she bid. She crawled to her lover’s side, taking the time to glance warily at the water. Byleth smiled, before offering the rod for her to grasp.

“Would you like to try?” She asked simply. Edelgard stared at her, searching her eyes. She breathed in deeply, steadying herself. Then she took the pole in her hands. Fishing had never been of interest, even when she had been keen to share in the hobbies of a certain mysterious professor. Yet she could not refuse that earnest plea. Byleth appeared inordinately chuffed, her smile growing.

Edelgard turned her head to the water. She opened her mouth, ready to ask for instruction, only for a fierce tug to come from the line. The Emperor tensed, eyes widening with shock. It tugged again, harder this time, and the Emperor shamefully panicked. She shoved the pole away from her in a hurry. It fell into the water limply, slapping the water in an anticlimactic display. Slowly, it sank to the bottom, along with Edelgard’s stomach. All was quiet for a time. Then a choking sound came from beside her, stealing her attention. The Emperor watched, flushed to her ears, as Byleth threw back her head and let loose a thundering laugh. It shook her entire body, and curved her lips into a fierce grin. Edelgard crossed her arms.

“Are you quite finished?” She groused playfully, fully aware she deserved it. Byleth’s eyes opened, and she stared at her with all of the world’s light in her cornflower eyes. Edelgard softened her voice, trying to convey the depth of love she felt in that moment.

“Do you feel a bit better now, Byleth?”

The woman’s laughter stilled, and she reached forward to grab a gloved hand. Edelgard smiled as Byleth kissed her ringed finger. An endless promise made with endless love.

“I do. Thank you, El.” She trailed her lips to the inside of her palm; gratitude and adoration felt keenly. Another kiss was given, healing the scars below. Overcome, Edelgard leaned over to capture her lips in a loving embrace. Their hands entwined atop the dock, and the sunrise heated their skin in waves of gold.

_Perfection really was a thing of simplicity, as was love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And that's a wrap! But never the end, my friends! I got a lot of thoughts so bear with me (you know how I am). Just to cover my bases I'm going to start at the beginning and talk about the conversation concerning Jeralt. While I was writing it, it occurred to me that Byleth is kind of like a Hollowborn child (kids born without souls) from Pillars of Eternity. So I wanted to express a similar dynamic the parents in POE faced (guys that crpg is a masterpiece don't sleep on it, plus the sequel has queer romance<3) Everything else was self-explanatory, but I do genuinely believe the concept El presents holds water. Empathy connects us all, and as a living Hallmark card, I wanted to express that. I'm well aware I'm an overly sentimental sap thx. The conversation with the OCs was actually written after a message by UncleYetibacca (thank you for the inspiration!) Plus I do want to explore the potential thought of kids in the future (cuz domestic sappiness is best). Hopefully you didn't mind their presence too much, and they managed to be somewhat amusing. As for the translation stuff, you will get some sweet bonus stuff if you're curious ;) I hope you don't mind me not planting the translations here, I just feel it could be like really pleasant homework lol. If there's any terrible spelling/repeated phrases don't hesitate to tell me (My eyes are glazed over seriously. Went to see LesMis for the thousandth time and cried like the baby I am)  
(Deep Breath) Since I'm getting multiple concerns over this, let me just say that the scene with the boy is not done lightly. I suppose I need to explain myself a little better with where I was going with it. Byleth killed him, not out of malice or desire, but out of ignorance and lack of moral understanding. One thing to note is she is NOT an adult in the story. Remember, this is the first time she held a blade and committed a grave mistake by accident. She was around his age, and in her words was removing an obstacle. The reason I chose a boy, and not an adult, is because it is something that Edelgard would have to genuinely be taken aback by. It's meant to be shocking and painful, while also something she is personally experienced with (TWSiTD). Byleth is aggrieved by the act rightfully so. I should have explained it better, admittedly, and hope you are not put out too much by my creative decision.
> 
> Once again, you guys have been great and I want to thank each and every person who read/reviewed/kudos! Your support has been amazing, and this fic community is one of the best I've seen. I AM actually being forced to take a break, as I will be out of town for October, but I imagine I'll be back after that. Maybe with bonus material for this fic, so keep an eye out. In the mean time I'll just be around reading some of the great work on here. Stay amazing and wonderful you beautiful people you!!
> 
> [ Additional Disclaimer Notice: I want to express that the views on Byleth are not in any way meant to be a commentary on people who experience genuine issues with empathy/social-connection. You guys are loved and valid, and I believe wholeheartedly that you can connect effectively with people. Byleth is a character afflicted by unnatural/magical lack of empathetic connection, which is resolved in an immediate manner by the end of Crimson Flower( And beginning with the academy phase as mentioned in TWtD). I hope I do not offend, and if I do, I apologize. Wishing you all the best - AdraCat ]
> 
> **[ Fanart plug incoming: The talented Sarah of @charbartt on twitter has made a piece for the beach scene. Check a look folks!  
https://twitter.com/charbartt/status/1180318745052553216?s=21  
Please consider looking at her other works too! Her style is just the cutest and makes me feel all fluffy~  
Thank you again, Sarah! You're awesome <3 ]
> 
> **[Another fantastic person has drawn Edeleth's talk with Doro after they return from the beach! Thank you so much broccoli_fan for this wonderful piece <3  
https://twitter.com/gray_broccoli/status/1295065296005263360]
> 
> **[Here's a great piece by dash @dashaisu on twitter!! It's Edie being her lovely self and a bruised Byleth from her time in the slammer.  
https://twitter.com/dashaisu/status/1303449864752300035  
Thank you so much for reading, dash! You're awesome<3 ]


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